


Excalibur: A Sword Forged by Stone

by Amintadefender



Series: Excalibur [1]
Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Changes to Code Geass's Alternate history because it doesn't make much sense, Disability, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Intrigue, Marianne survives, Plot, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2020-11-02 09:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 263,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amintadefender/pseuds/Amintadefender
Summary: Lelouch's mother may have survived, but the Emperor still sees him as a pawn. It doesn't matter if he submits or fights for his independence, Lelouch's hands will be sullied by blood. His father's will is absolute and Britannia rests on the graves of innocents. Book 1 of Excalibur





	1. All Because of Nunnally

**Author's Note:**

> Alternative chapter title: Lelouch's Petty Revenge Accidentally Foils V.V.'s Plan

_ …Charles was by all accounts a harsh man and it is doubtful whether he held any affection for his numerous wives. For Charles, marriage was just a powerful tool to create political alliances. Marianne, unlike many of his wives, supported Charles's claim to the throne before he was crowned Emperor. Instead of tying herself to his cause by marriage, she became his Knight of Honor. Shortly after Charles seized the throne and her eighteenth birthday, they married. No longer able to be a Knight of Honor, she continued to fight for her husband as the Knight of Six. To many, she was his favored wife and their rumored relationship is the basis for many love dramas… _

_ —Charles and Marianne: A Couple that Changed the World _

* * *

**Aries Villa**

Empress Marianne had dismissed the royal guard. An unusual occurrence, but their constant presence had to be stifling. Cornelia ignored the slight twinge in her chest. Lady Marianne was an excellent warrior, having never lost a duel. She just wanted her privacy and the time of bloodshed had long passed. Within the manor, there was nothing that could harm her.

Cornelia’s footsteps echoed as she finished her last inspection and headed to check on her two younger half-siblings. Lelouch and Nunnally were rambunctious little rascals and it would be just like them to use the guard’s absence as an excuse to pull another prank. 

Pausing in front of an unusually candid photo of her father enraptured by a book beneath a tree, Cornelia smirked. It was a picture she hadn’t seen before. The Emperor guarded his likeness zealously and Cornelia knew that the photo would mysteriously vanish after his next visit.

The carousel of photos was a game between him and Lady Marianne. Undoubtedly, she would replace the photo once he left and their scavenger hunt would recommence. Eventually, he would retaliate by taking her favorite book or movie hostage and she would either apologize or steadfastly ignore him.

None of his other wives had the courage to snub him. Not even Cornelia’s mother.

A loud creak brought her out of her musings. She had a feeling she knew who it was, but still, she held her spear securely. If there was an attack, a gun would be more effective, but the spear was customary for the royal guard. She tensed and rounded the corner. 

It was Nunnally, as expected.

"Why aren't you in bed, sweetie?"

Nunnally hid her hands behind her back. "Nothing."

She looked cute, shifting from foot to foot nervously. Sighing, Cornelia pulled Nunnally's hands forward and glanced in amusement at the frosting. The sight was familiar. Her own sister, sweet Euphemia, would also sneak into the kitchens for a little extra dessert.

"You know you aren't supposed to sneak food, Nunnally."

"Please don't tell Mommy, Nellie. Please?"

That manipulative little angel. Her shoulders shook as she suppressed the chuckle that sought to escape. Nunnally and Euphemia were really kindred souls... except...

"Is Lelouch behind your little escapade?"

She blinked and pouted. "Don’t use big words, Nellie! It’s not fair. And please don't tell Lulu."

She looked so innocent staring down at the floor. But Cornelia knew the spiel after all these months. "You little rascals are up to something. Now off to bed before I tell your mother."

Nunnally looked vaguely disappointed in herself. Distraction then. Bed first and then Cornelia would find Lelouch. Hopefully he wasn't going after her hair product... again. 

Nunnally tilted her head to the side and Cornelia stilled. What was she hearing?

"MOMMY! NO!" Nunnally screamed and then she was off, running down the hallway.

Cornelia dropped her spear and pulled out her gun; whatever spooked Nunnally could be a danger. "Royal guards, move in. This is your commander, Cornelia, ordering you to move in."

Nunnally ran towards the atrium. Rapid gun fire, muffled by wooden doors, resounded through the still air. Cornelia pushed Nunnally to the floor and burst into the atrium just in time to see her mentor collapse on the stairs. 

A small figure hurried through the darkness and Cornelia fired, her bullets flying wide. 

Cornelia ran past Lady Marianne and her boot squelched in a slowly growing pool of blood.

No. No... This could not be happening. Orders. Training. Deep breath.

"The royal family is under attack. Secure the building and the prince and princess. Let no one leave. The attacker is small and has an automatic gun." She crouched down by her empress, who was thankfully still breathing, slowly and painfully, but still alive. Her hands shook as she pressed the emergency care button. She had never thought it would be necessary. "Lady Marianne, just hold in there, you're going to be fine."

Blood welled up from bullet holes and Cornelia glanced at her blood stained hands as she helplessly tried to apply pressure. So much blood. The simple brown work dress that Marianne favored grew dark. Like a rotting wound. What was she supposed to do?

Behind her, Nunnally was screaming and she could hear Lord Gottwald trying to comfort her as he escorted her away. This wasn't supposed to happen. Assassinations were supposed to be over now that their father was the Emperor. Poor Nunnally and Lelouch. She remembered what it was like to constantly fear for her life. She wanted to make sure no child ever felt that kind of fear. That was why she was a soldier. But she had failed.

"You've got to survive."

Blood soaked into the carpet and trailed down the stairs. Lady Marianne was silent except for her shallow breaths becoming quieter and quieter.

* * *

**Pendragon National Hospital**

Lady Marianne would survive. She had to. She was a knight and an empress. There was no way she would allow herself to die. Cornelia's eyes trailed up the paneled walls to look at the clock. It had been too long. She looked back at the guards standing along the walls. There was nothing she could do but wait... She just had to wait and hope for the best. 

Wait. Like she waited for the medical team. Like she waited for the helicopter to arrive at the hospital. Wait... 

She was the Captain of Empress Marianne's royal guard... and all she could do was wait.

The door swung open to reveal Lord Gottwald escorting Nunnally and Lelouch, still in their nightgowns with dried tears shimmering in the light. Lord Gottwald guided the two royals to the couch and they sat. Lelouch observed the room, poised and upright, while Nunnally hid her face in his lap. Lord Gottwald snapped to attention before Cornelia.

"Any news, Commander?"

She shook her head as she glanced back up at the clock. "Empress Marianne is still in surgery."

He relaxed marginally before dropping to his knee and bowing his head in shame. "Forgive me, Your Highness, I failed to protect her."

What? He failed to protect her? Lady Marianne was only alive because of Nunnally's keen ears. Chance. Simple. Stupid. Chance. What was he supposed to have done? 

Cornelia had ordered the royal guard to withdraw as per Lady Marianne's request. She should have left someone with her. She had failed to take her job seriously, thinking that nothing could happen in this day and age. The Emblem of Blood was over. Royals weren’t supposed to fear assassinations in the dark anymore. No one would risk the Emperor’s wrath. Not after he executed his own wife for trying to assasinate Schneizel.

The royal guard was supposed to be ceremonial… but she had been wrong. Now, Lady Marianne might pay for her foolish mistake with her life.

Surprisingly, Lelouch snapped at them both, "You both failed to protect my mother. She may very well be dead because of your negligence, but there's nothing you can do about that now. Just find the assassin who betrayed my mother's trust."

Lord Gottwald gulped before positioning himself in the corner, watching the door. 

Glancing at the young prince, Cornelia marveled at his stone cold face. Right now, he held himself like an adult—only his arm, protectively curled around Nunnally, betrayed his unease. 

Cornelia nodded and resisted looking at the tempting clock in the corner. Instead, she pulled out her phone. She wasn't a doctor, but she could find the assassin. "Report."

Lord Aldfeld spoke clearly although she could hear the stress in his voice. "We've combed the house and the surrounding area. We haven't found anybody, but we do have a witness. Anya... Alstreim, but she didn't get to see the attacker. I think she is in shock. She only remembers the Empress falling."

Another failure of hers. She had forgotten to secure the room in her panic. Mistake after mistake. How could she ever atone? “What of the security footage?”

A moment of hesitation. “All recording devices were disabled.”

Cornelia frowned. Nobody should have been able to do that. Lady Marianne’s security was redundant to the absurd. "Keep searching. Interview all the staff members. One of them may be our assassin. Any chance it was Anya?"

"Maybe... But I don't think so. I doubt she would be able to handle the recoil from a machine gun. She isn't very strong."

She hated this. "Detain her and question her again. We have to be sure. Also have a canine unit sweep the grounds. There are a lot of hiding places there."

She snapped the phone shut and avoided Lelouch's harsh gaze. He had every right to hate her.

The door swung open and she pulled out her gun without thinking. She would protect them with her life. 

The Emperor stared at her for a second, waiting for her to lower her gun, before striding past them without a word. Sir Bismarck Waldstein followed behind him and together they entered the ward, heading to Lady Marianne like Cornelia wished to. 

What was her father doing here? He had been negotiating with the E.U. in Iceland last she heard. Lord Gottwald stared at her in confusion and she shrugged slightly, unsure of what to make of the Emperor's actions.

Finally, the doctor stepped into the waiting room. He glanced at them nervously, causing trepidation to rise within Cornelia. Bad news? He shifted again and looked between her, Lord Gottwald, and the prince and princess.

"Well?" Cornelia snapped, having enough.

"Well, Her Majesty survived the surgery... She isn't in the clear yet and, well, we're worried about infection. Unfo—"

"When can we see her?"

He winced. "His Majesty doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Excuse me?"

The man swallowed and looked at the floor. "His Majesty has forbidden anyone from entering the room... including the doctors. Another doctor will be arriving in a few hours. No one is allowed to see Empress Marianne; the Emperor has decreed it so."

Was it because she failed?

Effortlessly cutting in, Lelouch grew louder as he asked his questions. "You mean to tell me that my father, the Emperor, is forbidding my sister from seeing her mother? My sister, who heard her getting shot? Is that what you are telling me? Well?" He stood up. "My sister and I will see our mother."

"Lelouch," Cornelia hissed. He couldn't do that. The Emperor would not tolerate such insubordination, even from his own children. Lelouch took a step forward, firmly holding Nunnally's hand. "Sit down, Lelouch, or I swear, I will tie you down."

"But—"

"My job is to protect your family, even if it means protecting you from your own stupidity. I nearly lost your mother because of it. I won't lose you as well because you have to fight our father. Yes, it is unfair. Yes, I hate it. But the Emperor does not tolerate insubordination so: You. Are. Going. To. Sit. Down... Now!"

Lelouch sat and the cowardly doctor fled.

* * *

**Marianne's Hospital Room**

Charles zi Britannia grasped his wife's hand the second he sat down beside her. He could hear the door closing behind him and knew Bismarck would keep everyone out. It had been so long since he felt genuine terror. His heart was still pounding from when the aide slipped into the conference room to tell him the news. 

He had nearly lost her tonight.

Gingerly, he pushed a limp piece of hair out of her face. Her skin was pasty and her hand remained ice cold in his grip. Marianne was supposed to be an unrelenting inferno. She was the one who actually dared to beat him in a duel. The one who forcibly dragged him out of his office because the weather was too good to waste. And when he pushed too far, she was the one to ride a horse into a ballroom to make a point.

When he considered the word “alive,” Marianne was who he thought of. Now, she was barely clinging to life. Someone had taken that from her. They would be punished.

Pushing aside the thick blanket, he gazed at the bandages wrapped around her torso and legs. The doctors hadn’t removed all the bullets yet, too preoccupied with keeping her from bleeding out on the operating table. His own medical team should be arriving soon and they would make sure she returned to her former glory.

In a way, he was lucky that whoever shot his beloved wife hated her passionately. They sought to give her a slow, miserable death instead of ending her life with clinical precision. 

He would punish the assassin slowly and methodically in return. When they finally begged for his mercy, he would give them the death intended for Marianne. Fitting.

Marianne shifted and Charles repositioned the blanket. She was too cold. Her lovely violet eyes wearily opened before she closed them again. It seemed the anesthesia was finally beginning to wear off. Her fingers curled around his hand and she blinked tiredly. She grimaced and he scowled. She would be in great pain when she woke, but he had to know.

"Marianne," he whispered. "It's time to wake up, my love."

She mumbled and opened her eyes slowly, squinting at him.

"Should I turn off the lights?"

"Ch—Charles? What are you doing here?" Marrianne slurred.

He shifted closer to her bed. "You were attacked, my love."

"But you have an important conference. You shouldn't be here."

Smiling, Charles kissed her gently. "No, Marianne. I'm here for you. Who dared to attack you?"

Her eyes narrowed and, after a minute, she let out a small sigh. "V.V. He thinks I'm messing up your plan.” Looking distressed, she asked, “Am I?"

Seething inside at the thought of his treacherous brother, Charles shook his head. "Of course not. We are partners and we will make a better world together."

"But what about V.V.?"

"I will take care of him. He went too far this time." How could his own brother have turned against him? After everything they went through?

Marianne chuckled weakly. "He did it out of love. Don't be too harsh on him, dear. I would also do anything to protect you." Charles nodded and Marianne narrowed her eyes as she looked around the room. "Why aren't Nunnally and Lelouch here? I will rip him apart if he hurt them."

Nunnally? Lelouch? His aide hadn't mentioned them, so they were probably fine. He was forgetting something. What was it? Oh. "They are in the waiting room."

"You forgot about them, didn't you, Charles. What am I ever going to do with you? Tell Bismarck to fetch them at once."

He complied and his knight escorted his two children—wide awake despite the hour — into the room. Lelouch refused to look at him or acknowledge his presence at all, while Nunnally slipped free of the knight’s hold and threw herself at Marianne, burying her face in the hospital blankets. 

"Mommy! You ok?" Nunnally asked.

Charles pulled Nunnally off Marianne as she grimaced in pain. "Careful, girl. Your mother is still injured."

Her eyes widened and he could see tears forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry. Did I give you an ouchie?"

Marianne simply smiled and slowly reached out to grab Nunnally's hand. "We're going to be just fine, sweetie. I'm just a little sore from the attack."

Nunnally burst into tears and Charles forced himself not to move. He did not understand children. They were weak and pathetic creatures, constantly needing to be protected. He had thought his brother was an exception, but in the end, V.V. was like all other children, self centered, prone to anger, and deceitful.

Lelouch watched Nunnally protectively, keeping her in his sights as his mother beckoned to him. The boy hadn't relaxed his guard yet, which was good. "I am glad to see you are alright, Mother. Who attacked you?"

Marianne let go of his hand and grabbed Lelouch. "Everything is going to be fine, Lulu. And your father and I will deal with him ourselves. There is nothing to worry about. You both look very tired. I'm sure the hospital can spare a room so my little angels can get some sleep."

Lelouch nodded and grabbed Nunnally's hand, recognizing the dismissal. He gave a short bow to Charles, snubbing him as the Emperor, and walked out of the room with his head held high. The impertinent little brat.

Marianne chuckled as the door closed behind them. "Admit it, Charles, you like Lelouch."

He crossed his arms and stood up. "He is disrespectful and proud. You spoil him too much."

"Like you didn't spoil Odysseus? I think your son had a crush on me for the longest while too," Marianne teased. Her eyes locked on the clock. "I was out for quite a while. What is the prognosis?"

Why did she have to ask? But he loved her because she had the courage to stand up. "I have my medical team flying in. They will be landing within the hour. My surgeon is very skilled."

"Charles... please don't start lying now."

"Some of the bullets came close to your spinal cord. The surgeon is of the opinion that you will never walk again. We will fix this." And he had already arrested the surgeon for failing to save her legs.

The white hospital room felt stifling as Marianne remained silent, her eyes focused on the freshly painted ceiling. "I'm never going to ride a horse again."

"I have a surgeon coming. He is extremely skilled." He hoped that would be enough. Unfortunately there was no Geass that could aid her. He had the power of Kings, yet was completely helpless in saving his beloved.

"Get me Reuben…” At his confused look, she rolled her eyes. “Lord Ashford, dear."

"Marianne..." She should be resting. Not talking about her knightmare, the Ganymede, and the development of the Glasgow.

"I will be piloting my knightmare when we invade Japan, Charles. I am not going to be crippled for the rest of my life."

That was his Empress. That was the knight he fell in love with. As the morning sun burst through the window, he smiled.

* * *

**Royal Palace, New Pendragon**

Lelouch guessed he should be thankful that they were allowed to stay at the Royal Palace while security measures were revamped at the Aries Villa, but he wasn't in a forgiving mood. The only reason they were here was because his mother insisted. The Emperor had made it abundantly clear that he didn't care for them. Intellectually, he had known that. All the royal children knew it, but emotionally he still clung to his father. 

He hated himself for expecting something more of the man who looked past him as if he wasn't there. It would have been better if the Emperor hadn't shown up at the hospital and revealed his callousness. Lelouch preferred his ignorance.

Nunnally at least hadn't realized. She still adored her father. Her heart remained safe despite the casual disregard the Emperor handled it with. 

The attack had shaken both of them. They were supposed to be safe, but evidently weren't. Their paranoia was shamefully apparent. Nunnally didn't run anymore and sneaked into his bed every night, despite them already sharing a room. Lelouch himself wasn't immune; he could hardly keep his eyes off her. With Mother still recovering in the hospital, it was his job to protect his little sister. If the cruel words he had overhead from the royal court were true, his mother might no longer be capable of protecting them.

"Lulu, do you like it?" Nunnally pushed a finger painting right in front of his face, too close for him to make out any shapes.

"Yes, I love it."

She pulled the piece of abstract art back. "Brother Clovis is better."

"Well, he is ten years older than you, Nunnally."

She nodded and sat down in front of his chair. "I'm going to be just as good. You'll see."

Lelouch laughed and knelt beside his sister. "What do you want to draw next?"

She grabbed the yellow paint and dipped her finger in, splattering it across the maroon carpet. "Sister Nelly!"

Lelouch scowled slightly before grabbing the silver paint and gingerly dipping his finger in. "I'll draw her sword."

"It needs to be super, super big. Because she is awe-sauce."

"Awesome, Nunnally, awesome."

The painting was hideous, but Nunnally laughed and chattered excitedly, so Lelouch didn't mind. It almost felt like nothing happened as they continued to paint. It was probably a good thing that Clovis was in Europe, otherwise he would have fainted at the artistic monstrosities they were creating. Lelouch smirked.

The door jingled and a servant set food down on the table. She pursed her lips as she observed the paint splatters but didn't say anything. Lelouch tasted the food, glad that Nunnally was too occupied trying to draw Euphie to notice it and question him.

An hour later, the food cold, Lelouch decided it probably wasn't poisoned as he was fine, and dragged Nunnally away from her artistic endeavors to sit down and eat. She scowled, pouted, then complied. "Thank you, Lulu."

"Everything for you, Nunnally. As long as we're together, we will be fine."

"I'm going to be an artist, Lulu! Like big brother Clovis... And then I will go all over the world. And you are going to be my knight."

Knight? That meant... exercise. "Nunnally!"

She laughed. She did that... on purpose! She kept laughing and Lelouch retreated to the other side of the room, refusing to look at her. He would never be a knight. He would be a chess player instead and one day he would win against Schneizel. That would be the day. 

His mother was a knight. She was an excellent duelist, but these days, knights were selected for their marksmanship or ability to pilote a knightmare.

He picked up an ornamental sword with an atrociously long white tassel and tested the weight. If his mother didn’t recover, would he have to become a knight to protect his sister? 

A bright spot of light danced across the ceiling and Lelouch froze. Twisting the blade, he watched it flick across the room, bouncing off the various mirrors and jeweled ornaments. Smirking, he tried to corral the spot across the room to Nunnally, who was aligning her numerous drawings under the stained glass window.

She was going to be so annoyed with him.

The bright spot stubbornly avoided her. Not to be defeated by a beam of light, Lelouch grabbed the cover for the food. He would simply have to bounce the light towards her.

Now, where should he stand?

The window shattered.

"Nunnally!" He screamed as he threw himself forward.

His body felt like lead and his eyes locked onto Nunnally as bullets ripped into the ceiling, raining plaster down on the room and shattering light bulbs. Nunnally's terrified gaze bore into him as he fell to the ground and felt the glass tearing through his skin. The cabinet, filled with precious china, wobbled.

"Move!" She had to move. She didn't and it began to fall. The china broke through the glass door first and Nunnally crumpled to the ground when a teapot struck her. His hand grabbed her arm, leaving red trails along her petticoat, and he pulled her towards him. The cabinet crashed to the ground, trapping his right arm and her legs.

Pain exploded through him: broken arm.

The room was absolutely silent except for the footsteps leisurely crunching down on the shards of glass and porcelain.

"Still alive?"

Lelouch groaned and tried to raise his head.

"Really don't like finishing off kids. Don't worry, I'll make it quick."

A feeling of calmness and clarity settled over him. There was no need to hurry.  _ Relax _ .

The tip of his fingers brushed against a tassel and Lelouch pulled it closer. He knew what he had to do. The hilt rested in his hand and he could hear the glass crunching next to him. The pain in his arm didn't matter, his life didn't matter, he could just  _ relax  _ and protect Nunnally. He had plenty of time. He lifted his left arm up.

His arm trembled as he met resistance, but he kept pushing.

A gasp. "How?" Then a gurgle.

The body crumpled and suddenly he could smell copper mixed with an acidic stench. His eyes watered from the dust hanging in the air and everything hurt. He couldn't get enough air and his stomach was curling into a tight ball. People were shoutin g —was that his father?— their voices echoing painfully in his skull. 

Nunnally? Was she alright? His eyes ignored the screaming commands running through his brain. Trapped.

Nun—

* * *

**Pendragon Hospital Room**

Lelouch awoke to a soft beeping and the whirring of air conditioning fans. He stared at the white ceiling, tracing the cracks in the paint. The wallpaper depicted teddy bears in warm, subtle hues. Blinds covered the window and he slowly pushed himself up, noting the cast on his arm and an IV in the crook of his left elbow. He was alive.

A brief knock. The nurse strode in smiling. "How are you, Your Highness?"

There was a flash of anger. They should have been safe at the royal palace; instead, an assassin managed to attack them in broad daylight. "I'm fine, thank you. How's Nunnally?"

"I heard the surgeon managed to set her legs. She is going to be fine."

Relief swept over him and he relaxed in the bed. Nunnally was alive. "And my mother?"

"She wasn't attacked, although His Majesty moved her. I am afraid you won't be able to see her just yet." Her pen tapped the end of the clipboard and she slipped into a more professional tone. "Any nausea? Headache? Or dizziness? No? Well you're quite a lucky little prince. It seems you will make a complete recovery."

He nodded. "When can I see Nunnally?"

"I'll check with the doctor, although she came out of surgery later than you, so it will take some time before she wakes up. The call button is on your left if you need anything and I will be back in an hour with your painkillers. Is there anything else I can do for you in the meanwhile?"

He sighed. "No, thank you..." He glanced at her name tag. "Mildred."

She dropped into a small curtsy before leaving him alone in the room and at the mercy of his thoughts. Sleep beckoned him and he let himself drift away, vaguely aware of Mildred returning and injecting something into his IV bag.

Something crashed to the ground outside and his eyes snapped wide open. He was half-way out of bed when the Emperor strode through the door. He sat down, his muscles tense. "What do you want?"

The Emperor gazed at him with harsh eyes and he resisted the urge to cower. "I hope you will display manners more befitting of a prince of Britannia when you are in Japan."

"Japan!" He didn't understand. Why? What? This didn't make sense. Everyone knew they were going to go to war with Japan... They would be political hostages. What had he or Nunnally done to deserve such treatment? "And Nunnally?"

"She will be joining you, Lelouch, although—" The Emperor paused. "Her head trauma blinded her and the doctors say it is unlikely she will regain her sight. Her legs will heal in time."

The Emperor said no more and Lelouch couldn't find the words to express his outrage as the man walked away. The next morning, he was using his left hand to push Nunnally's wheelchair up the ramp to board the plane... The plane that would take them to Japan.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> \- Lelouch was 9 when his mother was assassinated and Nunnally was 5. That's insane.
> 
> \- Marianne was 18 and Charles was 43 when they married...
> 
> -Lelouch is 17th in line to the throne, but the 11th prince. There are only two princesses before him, so that means there are four people in line to the throne that aren't Charles's children.
> 
> Author’s Note:
> 
> Edited: 6/24/2020
> 
> Thank you to my lovely critique group for their help. Chelchel337 (A03), CC-Saito (FFN), and Emmeebee. You were all amazing in helping me. Especially with grammar because I’m terrible at proofreading.
> 
> As a slight warning, this fic deals with mature themes which were lightly touched upon in the anime. 


	2. Shaping the Keystone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: In Which Lord Ashford Likes Gossip and Suzaku Hates Shogi

_ A Brief Overview of War: _

_ Britannia is superior to other nations, due to our constant warfaring. War makes us strong. Because our people are accustomed to the battlefield we lead the world in innovations and medicine. It is the duty of every Noble heir to aid the war effort, for it is only through war, that they may establish themselves and prove worthy of their family name. In recent years, there has been a disturbing trend to prioritize the science of war instead of the honor of war. While such studies are necessary, the family heir should always seek honor on the battlefield, lest they not be taken seriously by their compatriots in court. A veteran baron is superior to the unblooded earl... _

_ —The Two Types of War by Margrave Greenford _

* * *

**Private Airstrip, Japan**

Tohdoh kept a close eye on his men, as the Britannian airplane rolled to a stop. It wouldn't do for them to attack first, even if this was Britannia's opening strike in the war that everyone knew was coming. The call to the Prime Minister had come in last night, informing them that they would be receiving two Britannian children. It had to be a ploy. 

The gangway rolled up to the plane and the door opened. Tohdoh straightened his shoulder and walked out on the airway, aware of the sniper scopes covering him. Eight men, dressed in crisp black suits, walked out of the plane and snapped to attention at the side of the gangway. A young boy with an even younger girl clinging to his back, strode forward. He walked down the stairs unsteadily and Tohdoh pushed down the urge to help relieve the boy of his burden. It wouldn't be proper. A maid followed from a respectful distance, carrying a folded wheelchair. 

Violet eyes locked onto him. "You are not the Prime Minister. Who are you supposed to be?"

"Kyoshiro Tohdoh, acting emissary of the Japanese Government," he replied curtly, but took care in enunciating the English words. He observed the boy's expensive clothes and elegant posture, despite carrying the younger girl on his back. "And you are?"

"Lelouch vi Britannia and this," he inclined his head towards the girl, "is my sister, Nunnally vi Britannia. The Emperor has sent us here to ease tensions between our countries."

On the plus side, he already had the Prime Minister on speed dial. On the other hand, what in the name of Kami was going on? The boy was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. "Truthfully, your highness, we weren't expecting you. I am going to have to make some phone calls."

Lelouch's face darkened and Tohdoh hoped he wasn't going to deal with a royal tantrum. This was a diplomatic disaster. He turned around and walked our of the prince's hearing range. He pressed the button.

The Prime Minister picked up immediately. "What's the situation Tohdoh? What are the Brits demanding?"

Resisting the urge to laugh, he replied, "It doesn't seem to be a ploy. There are really two royal children on Japanese soil. It is possible that they aren't who they claim to be, of course." He glanced back at the prince and watched in amusement as he tried to lower his sister into the wheelchair. The girl, Nunnally, was practically choking him as she clung to his neck. "There are just two kids. Eight guards and a maid."

"This wasn't what we were expecting. I can be there in thirty, but until then, keep them there. And search the plane. Such cowardly tactics don't suit the Brits, but sending children..."

The girl finally let go of her brother and sat down in the wheelchair. "I understand sir."

"Find out what the kids know."

The line cut off and Tohdoh walked back to the two children, noting how the boy immediately straightened upon noticing him and suspiciously regarded him.

"The Prime Minister will be here in an hour your highness. Unfortunately, I must request that you stay here in the meantime. My men will also be searching the plane."

The prince rolled his eyes. "So that is the extent of your Japanese hospitality. Very well."

"Lulu, don't be rude," said the princess. "I'm really sorry for my brother mister. He just didn't get a lot of sleep on the flight."

"Nunnally! You can't just say that. And I don't need sleep."

The boy was human after all. He watched a couple of his men entering the plane, before looking back at the boy. "How did you break your arm your highness.?"

Both of the children quieted immediately, the brief moment of levity evaporating. The princess spoke up first. "A cabinet fell on us. But the doctor says my legs are going to be just fine. Right Lulu?"

Lelouch nodded and his left hand settled on her shoulder. "Yes Nunnally. You're going to be able to run again. And when you do, I'll play all the tag you want."

"Really Lulu? But you hate tag."

"I would do it for you. Only you. So don't tell Nelly or Euphie."

The girl laughed. "How does it look Lulu?"

"Well there's a great big palace up ahead. It's made out of artisan marble and it's catching the light in all the right ways. It's almost as impressive as the mausoleum. There are beautifully shaped hedges along the sides and a few willow trees. They have red and pink roses."

Nunnally was blind... and judging from the colorful descriptions her brother gave, it was a recent development. A cabinet. Right... The boy was high strung, reacting to every loud noise and keeping the armed men always in eyesight. Attempted assassination. They were here for protection because halfway around the world, in a hostile country, was apparently safer than home. He pulled out his phone and walked away, signalling for the men to fall back. No need for the boy to have a panic attack.

Switching back to Japanese, "Minister. They're here because of an assassination attempt."

"I'll be there in fifteen. You sure?"

"Yes Minister. I don't think they want me to know, but it makes sense."

He closed his phone and walked back towards the prince and princess. "Is there anything I can get for you, your highness?"

"No, thank you."

They stood there in awkward silence until the distant rumbling of the Prime Minister's escort, signaled their arrival. 

* * *

**Unknown Location, Pendragon**

Charles looked out the window, enjoying the cool breeze. The early morning fog was slowly receding over the dry mountains. There hasn't been enough rain in the winter and the yellow grass mocked him. He would have to deal with Margrave Oberstein soon if he kept draining the Colorado River. Margrave Goldbaum was already complaining about the loss to his harvest. Then there was the Conservation Party, arguing for the wildlife. If he didn't settle the situation soon, someone would call a War of Honor, which would be detrimental for his invasion plans. War of Honors were a waste of resources, but tradition was hard to sweep away, especially with the Emblem of Blood seared into every Lord's mind. War of Honors were harmless in comparison, a lesser evil, but they wrecked grand intricate plans. And then the Guilds would step in, speculating, and seizing power beyond their station. If the commoners got too powerful, they might think of rebelling. A truly strange balance an Emperor must keep. Neither too poor, because desperate men are the most dangerous, but not too rich either since wealth brings forth dangerous ideas and the resources to act upon them. Wars of Conquest were much simpler. 

V.V. stood at the door, waiting respectfully. "Brother, you wanted to see me?"

He continued to look out the window. "Marianne was attacked, if it hadn't been for Cornelia's timely intervention, she would have died."

"That is... unfortunate."

"It's rather strange Victor," he began, observing how V.V. stiffened, "how Nunnally and Lelouch were attacked, just a day after, in the royal palace."

V.V. didn't say anything.

"You are in charge of the Geass order aren't you V.V? And the OSI? The wielder of the shadows protecting his Emperor."

"Do you doubt me Charles? I will always protect you." V.V. dared to look distressed at the thought.

He turned around and faced his brother completely, "The assassin targeting Nunnally and Lelouch had a Geass you know. I wonder if you would consider him lucky or unlucky for surviving the stab wound Lelouch gave him? We had a very interesting conversation."

And there was the scowl he remembered from his youth. "Brother, whatever—"

"A lie of omission is still a lie brother. Do not evade the truth V.V, it's unbecoming. But really, I am curious, why did you squander resources on sending an assassin after Lelouch and Nunnally? Your man didn't know."

V.V. stepped forward. "Marianne is a threat. She is leading you astray. We made a contract and because of that  _ woman _ , you would break it! She is a threat to you and I swore to eliminate them!"

"But Lelouch and Nunnally? Truly V.V, they weren't a threat. Or do you hate my wife so much to take revenge on her children when your plan was foiled?" He paused and turned back to the window. "How childish."

"There deaths would not have been a loss. The boy is impertinent. He disrespected you! And his sister—"

'Ruined your perfect little assassination. I've sent both of them away, for their own safety. Marianne was willing to be lenient, even knowing you tried to kill her. But then you attacked her children, and any mercy she requested for you, is scattered like ashes in the wind."

V.V. stared at the ground, his long hair falling in front of his face. "I understand you are upset brother because I broke our promise. I didn't know you extended family to include your children. You have never shown much interest in them before."

"No V.V, I'm mad because had you succeeded, I would have looked like a fool. There are already rumors beginning to circulate because Marianne, my publicly favored wife, nearly died in a  _ terrorist  _ attack. It makes us look weak and if your little soldier had succeeded in killing two of my children in the Royal Palace... I would have every Noble attempting to assassinate me because I would appear weak. Your petty actions got closer to destroying our plans than any other threat.  _ You _ nearly ruined everything."

"I... I miscalculated brother." He swallowed and looked up. "I sincerely apologize for my misconduct. I will do better."

The simmering anger cooled and he let himself sigh. "I have to discipline you V.V. And I find myself not being able to trust my Master of Shadows. There is no one able to take your place. I need to be able to trust you."

V.V. nodded. "I understand Charles. Allow me to prove that your faith in me isn't misplaced."

It was much too late for that now. Perhaps his brother was still loyal, but V.V.'s love for him clouded his vision. Yet, he couldn't dispose of him. "You will be working with Marianne closely, right now, I can trust her more than you. And should any harm happen to her, I will take your code. That is my contract to you."

"I... I accept your contract Charles."

V.V. turned to leave and Charles let him step through the doorway, before calling out to him again, "And leave Lelouch alone. He may have defeated your Geass user, but I will not have you recruit him into your organization."

"Of course Charles." 

V.V. left and Charles could just stare out the window, as the hallway suddenly felt despairingly empty.

Unwilling to linger, Charles took the long way to his office. He had to meet with his sons. Schneizel was being rather too presumptuous of late. Masks upon mask shrouded Schneizel's true intentions. It was unfathomable how his son could turn out to be so duplicitous. He suspected that only Odysseus knew who the real Schneizel was. Completely ordinary defined Odysseus despite the numerous opportunities Charles afforded his son. It was baffling how Odysseus managed to be the Minister of Welfare and slide under the radar. Unspectacular. Unworthy of being the Crown Prince. Yet Odysseus had mastered one skill that eluded Charles, how to reign in Schneizel. Hopefully the favor wouldn't cost him an entire hospital this time.

* * *

**Kururugi Shrine, Japan**

Suzaku hated the Britannian prince and his companions. It was aggravating watching the Britannian guards walk through his honored home with a dismissive gaze. Their eyes would sweep over him as he entered their presence, assessing and then casting him aside as if he could possibly not be a threat. Worst of all, they never spoke. It rankled Suzaku that they could plot his and his family's death in their secret language of hands without anyone being the wiser.

But the worst offender, was the prince. He had taken Suzaku's playroom as his own. During dinner, he would covertly exchange his and his sister's dishes with someone else, only eat food after someone else served themselves first, and neither his father or Tohdoh-Sensei, would reprimand him. He even sneaked into the kitchen, to watch the cooks prepare their food. And when the prince slept in Suzaku's former den, he refused to sleep on the futons, instead sleeping in the corner curled around his sister. Why did his father forgive the Prince's continued insults to his family's honor? The Japanese weren't two faced lying bastards like the stupid Britannians. The only good thing about the Britannian's presence was that Tohdoh-Sensei didn't have the time to completely humiliate him at shogi anymore.

The water splashed violently into his face as he threw his gi into the bucket. The green stain on the otherwise pristine white uniform glared at him. Tohdoh-Sensei would kill if he turned up to training in that. It wasn't his fault. He didn't eat in his uniform. Somehow, he knew the prince had done it.

He poured in some soap and plunged his hands in, spinning the water and watching the bubbles form. Sighing, he grabbed the soft bristled brush and began to scrub. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the princess roll forward in her wheelchair, the wheels scraping across the stone slabs.

She stopped besides him, her nose twitching. "Is that soap Suzaku?"

The water splashed again as he glared at her despite knowing she couldn't see it. "Your brother," he spat, "stained my gi with wasabi."

She was silent and he looked away, creeped out by her eyes staring a little bit to the right of his head. He wondered where her brother was, who generally never let her leave his sight.

"That wasn't really nice of Lulu, but you were mean too."

"I'm sorry," he forced himself to look at her, "for tricking you."

A smile bloomed on her face and her hand reached out to settle on his arm. "Thank you. I think Lulu likes you."

The gi slipped from his hands, sinking to the bottom of the bucket. "What? But how?"

She laughed and rolled her wheelchair slightly forward, bumping into the bucket. "Brother plays tricks all the time on Nellie and Euphie cause he cares. That is why you tricked me right?" Her eyebrows drew together, "Friends! We are friends! Right Suzaku?"

His mouth was suddenly dry and he looked around, finding the prince silently observing him from behind the bushes. Of course  _ he  _ was there. It had been stupid to think that he wasn't near his sister. "We can be friends."

Two small arms reached around him. "I never had a friend before. Just lots of siblings. Do you have any siblings?"

Slowly disentangling himself from her embrace, he said, "No. I have a cousin, Kaguya. I'm supposed to marry her when we grow up. We don't play with another. She is too... proper."

He turned back to the bucket, noting with satisfaction the green stain fading. Tohdoh-Sensei might not kill him. Nunnally continued to chatter excitedly. "Clovis always tries to be grown-up. He never wants to get dirty... Unless it is paint. Brother Clovis loves art. For his birthday, his mom flew in a famous artist from Germany to teach him. He brags about it always. I like to paint too... What color is wasibi?"

Suzaku answered quietly. "Green. Lighter than grass."

Nunnally ran her hand along the bucket. "I'm scared to forget the colors. It's been so long. I don't want to forget, but sometimes Lulu tells me what color it is and I... I can't imagine it right. It's always wrong."

Looking up, he saw the prince's harsh, unforgiving stare. The gi was a warning for upsetting his sister. A cold feeling of dread settled over him as he thought of what the dishonorable prince could have done instead. The prince had been in his room, unnoticed.

"Hey Nunnally, we could make a secret fort?"

Her frown vanished and she turned her wheelchair, "Lulu! I know you're there! I heard you following me. Come over here."

The prince visibly sulked before begrudgingly walking over, his clothes somehow pristine despite hiding in the bushes. He stopped by Nunnally and gave him a curt nod, "Suzaku."

Oblivious to her brother's cold attitude, Nunnally grabbed the prince's hand. "Suzaku is going to make a secret fort with me! You can help too!"

"Of course Nunnally, whatever you want. But we'll need a secret place."

"We could probably find a place in the forest," said Suzaku.

The prince nodded. "We'll need a distraction. The cat will do. At dinner you can sneak some fish away Nunnally. It will do as encouragement."

"We can do it now."

"A good plan requires preparation—"

Nunnally cut in, ignoring her brother's annoyed spluttering. "He just wants to play shogi with Tohdoh."

Suzaku blinked. "You play shogi?"

"Tohdoh says you don't plan ahead enough."

That was completely unfair. He was a model student, always paying attention. He mastered martial arts moves easily. It wasn't his fault that shogi was boring. But the Britannian prince was playing a Japanese game and had saved him from Tohdoh-Sensei's regular attempts to teach him. Perhaps Lelouch wasn't that bad after all.

* * *

**Ashford Labs, Location Classified**

Reuben stared at the Glasgow prototype in dismay as the pilot guided across the hangar. The movements were too slow and jerky, making the machine look like a marionette. It should moved like a refined dancer, swift and precise. Or perhaps he was just too used to Marianne piloting his prototypes. 

His lab assistant, hunched in front of the terminal, called out to him, "Lord Ashford, the readings are in. We have a fifty percent improvement in section C, although performance dropped by ten percent in the other sections."

Resisting the urge to pull out a cigarette, he watched the pilot come to a fumbling stop. "It's an abomination. Only thing it is good for is bait. It will fall over the second it comes under artillery fire."

His assistant sighed, pushing up her glasses. "The Emperor wants them done as soon as possible. We don't have time for nitpicking my lord."

Walking to the terminal, Reuben grumbled, "It's not nitpicking if it doesn't meet the objective." He sighed and pulled up the data from the last twenty prototypes. "It is obviously not working. Dumbing it down is a catastrophe and here we are adding more weight with better weapons. If it can't move quickly, it's dead weight. We should start over. Rethink the basics. I must have missed something."

"But Lord Ashford, the contract! You'll lose the Ganymede."

"No, that design is quite safe. Lady Marianne is technically leasing it. The only thing we may lose to our competitors is this piece of junk. And at this point, maybe they will be able to do something better with it."

"You would ruin the Ashford family. Margrave Oberstein would destroy you. We have to get this to work."

He humphed and sat down at his computer, already beginning to draft a new design. "Really, upgrading the Ganymede would be a better use of my time, but  _ no, _ I have to make it so all the pretty noble boys can pilot a knightmare. It really shouldn't be this difficult to get the design to work, the hard part is the programming. Should have paid more attention to her work."

"She was a commoner."

He shook his head and improved the leg design. "She was the most brilliant woman I ever met. A true computer scientist and the reason the Ganymede works so well. Now getting her program to play nice with anyone besides Marianne is proving truly difficult."

The elevator door pinged and Reuben turned around, expecting to chastise his granddaughter. Instead he saw Marianne sitting in a wheelchair, pushed by a timid maid. He narrowed his eyes at the servant, she hadn't been cleared by him. 

"Hello Reuben."

He turned back to his work. "Hello Marianne. I see there is some truth to the rumors this time. You know I don't like people who aren't cleared in my labs."

Marianne scoffed and he could hear the wheelchair rolling closer. "She won't talk to anyone. Well... maybe Charles. And what rumors?"

He cast a glance at the maid again, apparently she was one of those people. He hadn't heard of the Emperor continuing the practice although he could acknowledge the benefit. 

"Just that you were brutally murdered and the Emperor is mad in grief and pretending you are still alive. Apparently he has taken a likeness to a prostitute who resembles you. The Lady Cassandra has a rather fantastical tale where Charle's elder twin survived the assassination and attempted to kill you out of jealousy. I'm rather fond of the one where Lelouch is a demon and Nunnally an angel and upon discovering the other's true nature had an epic battle that left you tragically wounded."

Violent coughing erupted from his assistant and he looked at her in concern. "Sarah, you alright?"

She put down her mug again and he could see the tears in the corner of her eyes. "You can't just say that to the Empress!"

Marianne laughed. "So that's your new assistant. What happened to your last one?"

"Margrave Obsertein poached him. Not that it will help him, the poor lad is neck deep in non-disclosure agreements. Maybe I should rescue him? But never mind that, tell me what happened? Spill all your delicious secrets." He turned away from his work, eager for the new gossip.

"It was a terrorist attack."

Waving his hand, he spun back to the computer. "Fine, fine, keep your precious secrets. How are the kids? My granddaughter is visiting. Perhaps I should introduce them?"

Marianne was silent and he turned his head, catching sight of her despondent face. 

"They are alright?" Surely Marianne wouldn't be here if her children weren't. She had changed at Charles's side, but the eager little girl was still there, and she would never be callous enough to throw them away.

She took a deep breath and forced her face to return to the neutral court mask. "They both got caught up in the terrorist attack. Their injuries were mostly from a cabinet that fell on them. Lelouch did a fine job protecting his little sister."

"I would be willing to watch them. The lab is quite secure, even if I generally don't want children in here."

Marianne shook her head. "Charles and I agreed it would be safer for them out of the country while we finish wrapping up the investigation here. The commotion will die down eventually, replaced with a bigger story, and then they can come back."

The attempted assassination of an Empress was big news. It seemed that Lelouch and Nunnally would be out of the country for a while... A shame. "And how are you Marianne? Your injuries healing well?"

Her smile was suddenly a lot more brittle. "I wanted to talk to you about that. I need a new knightmare. The attack injured me, I cannot use my legs anymore."

Reuben frowned as he considered the news. The Ganymede, his baby, would never fly again. It seemed the Glasgow would indeed come to fruition despite its awful design. A prosthetic perhaps... he still had some plans flying around somewhere. Perhaps he could pivot and focus on the much more humanitarian options. "It will be a lot of work. Getting a knightmare that works like the Ganymede. We will need to revamp completely the controls and that makes finishing the Glasgow on time for the invasion... well, difficult."

Something flashed across Marianne's face at the mention of Japan, but it was too quick for him to decipher. "No new controls. I want to control it through my nervous system. My cousin had plans for that. It was the original idea wasn't it Reuben, before your wife enforced a budget on you?"

Oh, his darling late wife, Rosalind. "Yes, but it will take quite some time to adapt those plans to the Ganymede design although I have some interesting design modifications we should implement if we're making you a new Knightmare. Hmm... We'll need a name. Perhaps something more simple instead of the mouthful that is the Ganymede.... Lefay."

Marianne smiled. "Thank you Reuben. The Lefay... it is rather different, but you were always rather particular when it came to naming. How are the Glasgows going. You are finishing up the designs?"

His assistant shifted in her seat, but thankfully didn't say anything. "They work, but dear Marianne, I cannot finalize them if I'm working on your frame. Perhaps I'll license the plans and the technology?" Reuben considered the possibility. The Glasgow would never become a machine capable of greatness, it was flawed. "Should help with production too if I license out the plans. Personal customized knightmare frames are much more my thing. Now Lady Marianne, care to push through the paperwork? As a favor to your old mentor?"

"Of course," she dipped her head in agreement, "but in return you will make the LeFay, even if I disagree with such a simple name."

* * *

**Near the Kururugi Shrine**

Lelouch could still hear the cries of the chickens as walked into the forest with Nunnally on his back. A few moments later, Suzaku burst through the bushes, out of breath, an exhilarated grin on his face, and leaves stuck in his hair.

"I can't believe that worked," said Suzaku.

Laughing, Nunnally replied, "Lulu's plans always work. I brought cake for the hideout. We're going to have a tea party."

Lelouch held in an undignified snicker as he observed Suzaku's face contort. "Of course Nunnally. You can get everything ready while Suzaku and I work on the defenses."

Suzaku mouthed "thank you" and then turned back to the bushes to pull out a bag. "I stored the wood near the other side of the shrine in case the adults get too interested."

"That was a good idea," said Lelouch. It seemed Suzaku could think ahead despite his usual modus operandi. "I managed to borrow some of the sakuradite cells from our Britannian guards."

Suzaku hoisted the bag over his shoulder as the began the trek to their secret hideout, "They won't tell anyone?"

"I took it from the newest shipment before anyone counted. If anyone notices, they'll assume that someone miscounted on the supplier's end. Besides, it is a moot point. They don't talk."

"They really don't talk? I thought they just did that while on duty. I don't know, as some weird Britannian thing."

A twig snapped beneath his foot and he cringed as the crack echoed through the woods and the grasshoppers fell silent. "They're unspeakables. They don't talk."

Nunnally shifted and tightened her arms around his neck. "Mommy told me that they used to cut out their tongues because they did a bad thing. And then because they can't talk, they can never tell your secrets to anyone. "

"That's barbaric."

Lelouch chuckled as Nunnally continued, "Uh uh. Besides it's better than being forced to dance in burning shoes until you die. And they did something really bad... or their family did something really bad."

Seeing his friend's dubious face, Lelouch said, "If you break your lord's trust, he can kill you and your entire family. So to save them, you become an unspeakable. As long as you serve your lord faithfully, your family gets immunity for their past crimes. But people don't do that anymore since you need the Emperor's permission. And they had a nasty habit of assassinating their lords."

Suzaku shuddered and they could hear the soft gurgling of a nearby stream. "It is still barbaric. If they had honor, the would commit seppuku and let their death atone for their sins."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. How could the dead atone for their sins? They were dead. He turned right, letting Nunnally slide off his back and sit on the ground. Hidden behind the eager greenery was their secret cave. And today, he would make sure that it was safe for him and Nunnally should the worst happen. Suzaku could join them as well, if he agreed to be Nunnally's knight. He had to admit that the boy was a formidable martial artists... and physically better suited to protect Nunnally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-The Emblem of Blood started before 1955 and seems to have ended in 1998. This is a massive period of time of there to be a bunch of wanton killing. It also begs the question how Odysseus managed to survive 14 years in such a violent time period. He has to have some skill to not get assassinated.  
-Apparently Britannia has its own calendar that starts about 50 years earlier. I feel that is rather... well stupid. I will maintain that a.t.b. = c.e. The calendars align.  
-When I watched the anime, I thought the Holy Britannian Empire formed after Napoleon kicked Queen Elizabeth III out of England. Apparently that isn't so... but I like for my alternate history to make some remote sense so I'm saying that there were a few more Elizabeths and history diverged during the Seven Years' War and follow what I originally thought was the case. This sort of solves my Canada is Area 2 problem, probably introduces a bunch of other history issues, and leaves the question of how the Britannians went through 100 Emperors in 200 years. Considering they called it the Emblem of Blood, my head cannon is that a bunch of nobles just started called themselves the Emperor and were nice enough to do it sequentially. Might really be best not to think about this too hard...
> 
> Author's Note:  
Still looking for a beta.
> 
> Next up: The invasion of Japan.
> 
> I had to get all the major consequences of Marianne not dying out of the way in this chapter and I actually had to cut scenes because it was getting too long. Still, I'm excited for Lelouch to finally become an active player instead of the little kid with no real power or ambitions.


	3. Walking Through Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title: Mixing Sakuradite and Water
> 
> Warning: Canon-typical violence. This is the invasion of Japan and lots of people die.

_ Britannia invaded Japan on March 14, 2011, breaking a period of nearly two years of peace. With the first deployment of the Knightmare frames outside of the country, Britannia shocked the world and crushed the Japanese military. A new age of war had begun. The EU publicly condemned Britannian for crimes against humanity and, with the aid of China, helped evacuate Japanese citizens in the Northern region. When Japan finally surrendered, 15 million civilians were confirmed dead with many more unaccounted for. _

_ —The Fall of Japan _

* * *

**Near the Kururugi Shrine**

Lelouch lay down in the shade as the sun beat down on him overhead. He could hear Nunnally clambering through the branches of the tree above him. He... was happy. It had been nearly two years since the Emperor had sent them to Japan and he found himself calling the Kururugi Shrine home. In Japan, he and Nunnally weren't the honored Britannian prince and princess. To most, they were children fostered by the honorable Genbu Kururugi. It was liberating to be free from the crushing expectations of excellency.

Tossing him a water bottle, Suzaku sat down in the shade. "It sure is hot today although Father says there is a storm rolling in later this week or the next... You sure it's fine for Nunnally to climb the tree?"

"She is blind... not crippled. Besides, I currently hold the record for falling off of stuff."

"That really isn't something to brag about Lelouch."

"Sure it is. Nunnally is amazing."

Suzaku chuckled. "I can't believe Tohdoh-Sensei had a baby. He sent me pictures you know. I'm not supposed to know, but he and Kaguya are coming over next week for Hanami. Father wants to make it into a big social gathering. He is worried about the election next year."

Nunnally, overhearing their conversation, called down to them: "Maybe we can invite my mom over for Hanami. I haven't seen her in ages."

"I doubt Suzaku's father wants to appear too friendly with the Britannians."

Suzaku said, "I don't know. I overheard—"

"You mean eavesdropped Suzaku. I have at last succeeded in teaching you the basics of subterfuge," teased Lelouch.

His friend glared at him. "I  _ overheard _ that father is hoping that one of the girls will catch your eye... He wants you to get married."

"I wonder if the Emperor would show up for his son's wedding," Lelouch mused. Both of his parents had barely kept in contact and he couldn't ignore the small seed of resentment. His mother should have been better. She was so kind, yet all he and Nunnally knew was that she was alive.

A shadow passed overhead and Nunnally jumped down to the ground, wobbling slightly and then threw herself at Lelouch. "Father will show up. And then we can have peace with Japan... wouldn't that be nice?"

"Peace," Lelouch whispered. Japan was peaceful and tame compared to Britannia. Perhaps their presence in Japan soothed the diplomatic tensions between the two countries. He wouldn't mind living the life of a commoner with Nunnally in order to ensure peace. It would cost him nothing and as much as he loathed to admit it, his father may have made the right decision: he and his sister were safer than ever before.

The earth rumbled and Lelouch shot to his feet, already lending a hand to his sister. Earthquake? A deafening clap of thunder and Lelouch swallowed, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and he scanned the horizon, already knowing, but daring to hope that he was wrong. Smoke curled upwards, climbing into the air. The conquest of Japan had begun.

Suzaku's face was white and he didn't move, just staring at the climbing smoke erupting from the countryside. A siren echoed through the hills. Nunnally moved closer to him, clinging onto his arm.

"Lelouch, what is going on?" 

"Suzaku," he yelled, "We have to go!"

His friend turned to him, his usually expressive face blank. Shock. "How can they?"

"Lelouch? What is happening? Brother, you're trembling. Please tell me?"

His eyes scanned his surroundings, running through the necessary supplies they had and calculating the distance to the nearby settlements. "Nunnally, I need you to climb on my back and don't let go."

"Lelouch! You are scaring me!"

"Now!" His sister cowered, but he had no time to feel guilty. More explosions ripped through the heavens as Japan's air force took to the sky. It wouldn't matter. The air strikes were a diversion for the ground troops landing and rushing inland, tearing the countryside apart. This... would be a War of Conquest. 

Suzaku finally moved, his wide eyes staring at Lelouch. Lelouch let his left arm drift to his satchel, where the small gun hid. Instead of accusing him, Suzaku said, "We can't go home. Father would... you and Nunnally won't be safe. We could... Please tell me you have a plan?"

Lelouch relaxed. Of course his best friend wouldn't betray him. "Grab the supplies. We will take the river to get to our secret cave."

Complying with his orders, Suzaku quickly collected the supplies. Lelouch took a sip of water before turning back to the forest. They ran. The ground quivered beneath their feet and Lelouch struggled to maintain his footing. Ash drifted through the air. They waded into the river and the clear water drenched their shoes.

Suzaku yelled over the sirens, "Are you sure nobody will find it?" 

Who would go looking for them in the middle of the war? Certainly not the Japanese, they had bigger things to worry about. But the Britannians... He and Nunnally would probably be fine, but if they found Suzaku... Lelouch looked at his friend weighed down with liberated equipment from his family home. He was the son of the Prime Minister and, if he was lucky, would be killed. No, he couldn't allow anyone to find them. 

"I have some decoy traps I can arm one we get to the cave," he yelled.

Nunnally whimpered and Suzaku almost tripped as he turned to stare at Lelouch. "How much stuff did you steal while I wasn't looking?"

"Borrowed! Besides nobody missed it." Suzaku missed a step and wobbled precariously, nearly plunging himself into the cool water. "And don't get that bag wet. I hid some sakuradite cells in there."

A loud explosion rocketed through the air, coming from the direction of the Kururugi Shrine. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Lelouch ran into the brambles obscuring the cave, not caring that the thorns caught on his clothes and scratched his skin. He dropped Nunnally and fumbled through her craft supplies piled in the corner, searching for the remote. He had to active the traps and lead the Britannian troops astray with the decoy. The explosion meant only one thing: the Britannians were at the Kururugi Shrine 

Suzaku sat down next to Nunnally, pulling her into a hug as she sobbed. As the earth rumbled around them, they waited, huddled together.

* * *

**Coast of Japan, Kagoshima **

The city of Kagoshima burned. Reuben Ashford exited his knightmare and stared at the horizon where he could barely make out the local volcano. It had been pitifully easy to storm inland once the invasion force landed in Ibusuki. The Glasgows easily crushed the surprised Japanese troops. Major Cornelia li Britannia expected that the area would soon surrender based on their obvious display of superior strength.

The ashes of Kagoshima drifted through the air and Reuben's hands shook. The conflict had been bloodless like he intended with only one knightmare frame being damaged and the pilot safely ejecting. His knightmare saved countless of lives and would continue to do so, but still, the ashes of the formerly beautiful city floated through the air.

Around him, nobles relaxed as the commoners helped fortify the area. Reuben could see Cornelia walking around camp, observing everything with sharp eyes. She had changed from her time as Lady Marianne's Captain of the Royal Guard. She was colder and more ruthless. Failure was not an option.

She approached him and he saluted her lazily. "Lord Ashford, show proper respect! The scouts spotted a small military force a couple miles out. I want you to take a small platoon and exterminate the threat."

He bowed at the waist. "Yes your highness."

The minute she left, Reuben was bombarded by lower nobles volunteering. They all wanted to be in the good graces of the Earl of Ashford and close friend to the royal family. He picked the starry eyed youths. He may have never fought in a war before, but his father had warned him of the nobles who would betray their lord when it served their best interests. Blind faith was preferable.

He ended up with eight men and two women: Sir Oster, Sir Flechton, Sir Lockheart, Mr. Newberry, Mr. Stockhausen, Lord Polinet, Lord Siebenberg, Lady Lusignan, and Mrs. Lupton.

"We will spread out through the forest on the East end in search for the military force the scouts spotted. As we are unsure if they have reinforcements, I want everyone to travel in pairs, but do not clump together. The knightmare frame does not make you invincible and as I am sure you are all aware, they are not cheap either."

Everyone winced except Lord Siebenberg who scoffed. "What are they going to do? There is no way such stupid rabble can scratch us in these monsters."

Reuben narrowed his eyes. "Lord Siebenberg, considering I designed the Glasgows before I licensed them off to Margrave Oberstein, it is fair to say, I know their weakness. The Glasgows are not impervious to explosives or gas Siebenberg, and I recommend you keep that in mind if you wish to stay alive."

Briefly Siebenberg looked as if he wished to protest, but he thankfully kept his mouth quiet. They entered the forest as the sun cast long shadows on the trees. Reuben turned on the thermal readings of his Factsphere and scanned the area. Sir Oster hung back, following him hesitantly.

"Lord Ashford?"

"Radio silence Sir Oster unless it is important. I don't want the enemy to intercept our transmissions."

"Do you have any advice my lord?"

The boy was nervous and Reuben was reminded of his own pounding heart. He knew every weakness of the Glasgow machine and it wasn't comforting. "If the ejection button jams, there is an emergency release on the right side of your chair."

A small flicker of heat and Reuben signaled for Sir Oster to stay still as he focused the camera. Agonizingly slow, small figures began to step into range. He could identify the clear outline of a gun, they had found the remnants of the military force. His hand drifted to the radio to call Cornelia.

Sir Oster called him first, "Lord Ashford, there are children there."

He couldn't suppress the tremor in his hand as opened the channel to Cornelia. He knew what would happen. This wasn't a War of Honor and he had read the rules. "Major Cornelia, we have found the enemy. They are evacuating civilians."

"Make sure none of them escape." The order was swift and without hesitation.

Despite knowing the answer, he said, "There are children there."

"It doesn't matter."

He closed his eyes and opened the channel to his platoon. "All units converge on my position and ext— exterminate the enemy."

"But the children," protested Sir Oster.

"The Major has given her orders."

Sweat pooled on his brow and he lunged forward, firing his rifle. He could hear the screams outside his cockpit and the soldiers firing helplessly on the knightmare. The refugees scrambled away from his and Sir Oster's onslaught, only to be gunned down by Sir Lockheart. Reuben's hand shook. He would grant them a death quick; it was the least he could do.

A child ran toward Sir Oster, who hesitated in firing and Reuben's eyes widened. "Sir Oster! Pull back!"

He fired his slash harken, but it was too late. The explosion ripped through trees and Reuben watched Sir Oster's knightmare fly backwards. The tree broke through the top hatch and Reuben knew Sir Oster was most likely dead. His own knightmare frame wobbled dangerously from the blast of air. The heat of the blast burned, turning his skin red.

The enemy was annihilated and Sir Oster was dead to a suicide attack. The forest burned around him, more ash rising into the air to join the ash of Kagoshima. In creating the knightmare frame, he had truly become the Earl of Ash.

* * *

**Lelouch's Secret Cave**

Lelouch carefully rationed portions for breakfast. Three days since the invasion had begun and in that time, they hadn't felt the warm caress of the sun. The shaking had finally ceased and Lelouch hoped the Britannian army had finally stopped pillaging the countryside. It was a foolish hope. Furthermore, he hadn't been able to store enough rations to sustain the three of them for a long period of time. Not that it mattered because someone would soon realize that the traps he had placed were a decoy. Then they would scour the forest and find their heat signatures... and Suzaku would be dead.

Next to him, Suzaku slowly began to cook the oatmeal. "You planned for this didn't you, Lelouch?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you warn us? You could have stopped this."

A dark chuckle escaped him. "Suzaku, everyone knew the invasion was coming. It was foolish for me to hope otherwise. I think we should leave today. Head to Tokyo. The city is probably still standing, it is too important to bomb to oblivion."

Small bubbles burst in the oatmeal as Suzaku watched it. "They bombed the nearby village. Those were just civilians. How can Britannia do that?"

"Because Britannia has the power to do so." It was a simple fact. If you had the power to do something, then you could. Only someone stronger could stop you.

"But why? All those people, just dead..."

Lelouch glanced at his sister, watching her chest rise slowly. She was sound asleep. "Britannia's opening strike needs to be as devastating as possible to show our strength. The Japanese are not Britannian, it does not matter if they die, and the costlier the war is to the civilians, the more likely it is for the country to surrender. It doesn't matter if there are no Japanese left, Britannia needs the land to keep the loyalty of the Nobles. If the Japanese surrender, then they may survive because they will be useful as cheap labor. One way or another, Britannia will win."

Surprisingly, Suzaku didn't grow angry at his words. Instead, he began to pack the bags. "Let's move out after breakfast. We will want daylight."

They left an hour and a half later. Nunnally clung to his hand as they slowly walked through the forest to the stream. The stream went west of Tokyo, feeding into a small lake. They would have to slip by the small towns. Hopefully, the soldiers had moved on, otherwise the excursion would be short.

The water gurgled quietly and the distant sound of artillery fire faded. They could almost pretend that this was a normal adventure and when the sun set, they could return home. Lelouch squeezed Nunnally's hand as she stumbled slightly. When had he started to think of the Kururugi Shrine as home? It didn't matter now.

They stopped briefly for a rest at noon, eating a small snack. Nunnally let go of his hand and eagerly splashed in the water. It was gratifying seeing a smile on her face. She deserved to be happy.

"Lulu? Why did we leave?" She didn't face him, but he knew she was waiting for his reply. The faint smell of smoke reminded Lelouch of their reality.

"Britannia invaded Japan Nunnally, we had to leave for our own safety." 

She gasped and sank to her knees, not minding the stream drenching her clothes. 

Lelouch frowned. It wouldn't do for her to be soaked. "Nunnally, please get out of the water. I don't want you to get sick."

"No!" She stood up and her hands curled into fists. Tears streamed down her face. "I want to go back home! I don't want to go any further. This isn't fair."

Life wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that their father didn't care and jeopardized their safety for his invasion of Japan.

"This is all a misunderstanding. Mommy can fix this. Then we can all be friends again."

It was Suzaku who stepped forward and pulled Nunnally into a hug, carrying her out of the stream. "Everything will be alright."

She sobbed harder, clutching Suzaku's shirt and Lelouch watched his friend calm her down. He should be by her side, hugging her and assuring her. Instead, he grabbed Suzaku's pack and began to clean up their trash, removing any evidence of their presence. His mother hadn't saved them. How was he supposed to tell his sister that their own mother had abandoned them?

Suzaku carried his sobbing sister. Lelouch checked his map. Sagamihara was a couple hours away. They could find shelter there. Silence surrounded them as the sun climbed higher and beat down upon them. The wind shifted and a rancid odor enveloped them. 

"What is that smell?" Suzaku broke the silence. 

Lelouch glanced at his sister and used some water to wet a small towel and cover Nunnally's mouth and nose. "I don't know."

The tree cleared and they stared at the sky. Smoke curled upwards and in the distance planes flew eastwards. But standing on the hill, Lelouch and Suzaku looked down at what was once a busy urban area. The area was forcibly flattened, only small hills breaking the monotony.

Suzaku held his nose as the wind blew towards them again. "What do you think those are?"

Lelouch frowned as he stared down. It didn't seem to be military in nature. What had happened here? Truthfully, he said, "I don't know"

* * *

**The Kururugi Shrine**

Marianne gripped her sword tightly as the Lieutenant entered the room... without her children. She didn't wait for him to salute and snarled, "Report."

"We lost another knightmare to the sakuradite traps on the West end. We have found no signs of the royal children your highness."

She frowned and drummed her fingers against the Prime Minister's desk. It was unfortunate that the majority of the household had been out when they attacked. Her children should have been inside the boundaries of the shrine, but apparently the unspeakables had been remiss in their guard duty. If the Japanese had her children or killed them, surely they would have announced it by now?

They had to be alive. Lelouch would never allow anything to happen to Nunnally. Suddenly realizing her stupidity, she pinched her nose. Lelouch would do anything to protect his sister, even if that meant fleeing the safety of the Kururugi Shrine. He should have trusted the guards, but the assassination attempt must have jaded him more than she and Charles had expected.

"It is a decoy. Search the surrounding area and avoid the traps. I don't want to lose anymore knightmares. Also bring me the Prime Minister's wife."

He bowed deeply. "Yes your highness."

Marianne grabbed her sword and laid it down on the table. It was a shame that the unspeakables had been picked for their dedication to Charles instead of their competency. Lelouch and Nunnally would already be with her and safe, had they been competent, but that wasn't the pressing issue at the moment: the wife had lied.

The door opened and Prime Minister's wife, her hands bound behind her back, was thrown down to the ground. She tried to look up and the soldier slammed her back down to the ground, before kneeling down respectfully. "I have brought the prisoner your highness."

She smiled coldly at the woman. "I was going to treat you well considering you hosted my children for the past year and a half... but then you lied to me. So let us try this again, where are they?" 

"I don't know," she hissed out, her eyes glaring through her loose, unkempt hair. Utterly pathetic. 

Marianne pushed her wheelchair back and carefully maneuvered it in front of the woman. She grabbed her sword and rested the tip in front of her face. "You will tell me everything you know... or I will begin by carving up your face... and when I find your son, I will kill him slowly. Do you understand... Noriko?"

The woman shuddered and her eyes fixated on the sword. "Lelouch—"

"That is Prince Lelouch to you."

Her breath shuddered. "Prince Lelouch would sneak out often to play in the forest."

Play... Apparently setting up an escape plan and planting explosives. "And where did he go?"

"To the East end... but I suspected they would go to the river."

"Very well." She turned to the soldier, "Tell the Lieutenant that he should search near the river."

He saluted and left to carry out her orders, leaving Marianne with the weak and pathetic woman. Her son apparently didn't go the river alone. Was it just Nunnally or had he made some friends with the Japanese?

The woman craned her neck, to stare into her eyes. "Please my son... Don't hurt him."

The Prime Minister's son. That was... unfortunate. The boy might have tried to kill her children or worse... they had become friends. Her son would be much harder to find if he was actively avoiding Britannian troops. Marianne shook her head and rolled out of the room, leaving the weak woman behind her.

The Lieutenant rushed forward and snapped to attention before her. "We have found some smaller traps in the area by the river. They may be in the area your highness."

Looking up, Marianne could see the sun slowly beginning to descend, dyeing the smoky skies in blood. "Have the troops use heat vision. And send some down the river. If they are in the area, they will need to have a heat source. But, it is more likely they already used the river to flee."

The river was a ridiculously obvious escape path in hindsight. Lelouch was smart... so he had to have known that the Japanese and Britannian troops would eventually come to the same conclusion. Therefore he must have intended to leave the river at some point. But where to? In a country in the midst of an invasion, where would Lelouch consider it safe?

"I'm ordering a platoon from Tokyo to travel towards the river."

"Your highness, that would be Sagamihira. The entire region was flattened yesterday."

Marianne smiled slightly. A city would have been tedious to search. "That is fortunate for us. It should be much easier to find a couple living children when they are surrounded by nothing but the dead."

* * *

**Sagamihira (30km from Tokyo)**

Suzaku covered his mouth as they descended into what was once Sagamihira. The hills were the dead and his stomach hurt as he constantly felt the urge to throw up. There was nothing in his stomach now. Lelouch wobbled in front of him and Nunnally stepped closer to her brother, letting him lean on her. She was lucky to be blind although the smell was inescapable.

Suzaku glanced at the setting sun and shivered. Blood. Britannia had painted the sky in blood. The mountain of bodies loomed beside him and he could hear the spirits crying out in despair. His people... dead with only the flies to tend to their bodies. How many more people would die before this war was over? Was it even a war when there was no honor among the enemy?

Lelouch suddenly stopped and staggered to the pile of bodies. He pillaged a cloak from the corpse of a small child. He handed it to Nunnally and her shivering hands accepted. "We need to rest."

"Here?" Suzaku's voice cracked. "We can't sleep among the dead."

Lelouch opened his mouth and the distant burst of gunfire closed it for him. Suzaku felt his heart beat faster as they fell quiet, listening to the distant voices shouting in Japanese. Were they military? Was Suzaku finally saved? He stared at his friend who had pulled Nunnally behind him. They couldn't be found. There would be no mercy for Britannian children, not when the Empire had killed them without honor.

The voices drew closer and Suzaku pulled off his sweater and thrust it at Lelouch. "You look like a Brit. I'll distract them."

Lelouch silently took off his pack and pulled out a short sword, a wakizashi. "Take it. Just in case."

"You really need to stop stealing my father's stuff Lelouch." How had he even gotten into his father's office to grab it?

"I don't think he will mind if it saves your life. Besides the swords in the dojo were blunt and too long." Lelouch crossed his arms.

Nunnally giggled slightly. "Bad Lulu. Mommy will be very disappointed in you."

Suzaku accepted the sword. At least Lelouch admitted it was stealing this time. "It is the principle of the matter. I'll be fine. They are Japanese."

Walking towards the noise, Suzaku kept an eye out on Lelouch who was slowly trailing behind him, sticking close to the mounds of bodies. The Japanese men, carrying heavy machine guns, emerged and Suzaku froze. The guns focused on him, and three little red dots danced on his chest.

In Japanese, the young blue haired one shouted, "Hey Boss. We got some kids here. Think they got any useful stuff?"

Suzaku froze as the blue haired teen approached him, the gun still pointing at him. Two more people watched from the distance. "We don't want any trouble."

"Comply," the teen smiled, "then we won't have a problem. I see you got some supplies there with your siblings. Why, I'll even be generous. You kids can join up with us and we'll keep you safe from the scary Britannians."

Lelouch, apparently having heard the suggestion, shouted out in Japanese, "Big brother! I don't like them."

Why couldn't Lelouch act this respectful at home? And his Japanese was better than Suzaku's English. Stupid genius. "I think we'll be fine on our own."

"Either join us, or we'll take those supplies off of you by force," shouted an older voice from the back. The man had a nasty scar running down the side of his face and part of his ear was missing. "I suggest you take the easy route."

Suzaku didn't say anything, letting them slowly approach. Lelouch brushed his left sleeve and Suzaku resisted the urge to smile: two hundred ridiculous codes that he had been forced to memorize flashed through his mind. And to think he had thought them useless. He tightened his grip on the sword.

The blue haired teen stopped before him and smiled. "Now. What is it going to be?" 

The scarred man was just out of reach, but a lunge could easily cover the distance. Unfortunately, there was still a gun covering him. He had to trust in Lelouch.

The man narrowed his eyes as he observed Suzaku's trembling hands on the sword. "Don't do anything foolish boy."

Too late. The gun shot rang through the air and Suzaku moved forward, letting the sword's weight pull him forward and sink into the skin of his countryman. The blue haired youth froze, his eyes staring at him accusingly. The older man reeled back in surprise, but Suzaku let go of the sword and brought up his knee with a speed he didn't know he possessed. It smacked into the man's jaw, letting out a loud crunch, and Suzaku fell to the ground, his body already spinning as it remembered the countless hours he spent perfecting the wheel-kick for Tohdoh-Sensei. His heel slammed into the man's temple and he fell like a bag of rice.

Over.

Everything was silent except for the buzzing of the flies.

His legs shook as he stumbled over to the body of the blue haired youth. His hand grasped the sword and he pulled it free. He had killed one of his own people. The blue hair shifted in the wind. Had he dyed his hair or was it natural? What was his name? He turned away, feeling empty.

"Let's go Lelouch."

They stumbled away, Suzaku mindlessly setting one foot in front of the other. What had he done? How was it right for him to kill? He had killed his own kind... to protect Lelouch and Nunnally. Was it right to kill in defense? Nunnally grabbed his hand and Suzaku knew he would do it again to protect her. He would protect people.

Something rumbled in the distant and Lelouch suddenly stopped. "Suzaku! Hide!"

"What?" He looked around, only seeing piles of dead bodies and a small cloud of dust rising in the distant. "Why?"

Lelouch pulled him down, his grip unusually firm. "Those are knightmares... Britannian troops. We can't outrun them."

"I'm not leaving." He wasn't going to abandon his friend.

Lelouch shoved him into the pile of bodies. "Hide Suzaku. We'll be fine, but don't you dare die. Nunnally needs you. I need you. You need to live. Hide under the bodies... it will obscure your heat signature. Please Suzaku... I can't lose my only friend."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Marianne's Ganymede was connected to an external power supply.  
-The entire story of Code Geass just seems to happen around Tokyo. The fact that the army hid out in Narita is peculiar as the invasion force would target Tokyo and Narita is apparently East of Tokyo... aka the area already invaded. An entire army somehow managed to sneak past the enemy's front line.  
-In canon, noble titles and military ranks make completely no sense. In fact, noble titles and ranks don't seem to make sense in the majority of fictional works. But the point is, Loyd is called an Earl. The title Earl can only refer to the head of the family or a Margrave's eldest son. So either Loyd is in charge of an entire estate or he totally downplayed to Suzaku that he would be a Margrave when his father died.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Still looking for a beta.


	4. Move Forth Pawns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Cherry Blossoms Will Always Bloom

_ Among contemporary politicians and scholars, there is a tendency to admire the strength of the first global empire: Britannia. From our modern perspective, it seems impossible to unify such a diverse and vast political landscape. Fascists will point to the strength of the Emperor, specifically Emperor Lelouch vi Britannia, and the overwhelming might of the Britannian military as a form of successful and effective governance. _

_ Time has warped our perspective, for Britannia was actually a conglomeration of loosely aligned territories, technically under the governance of a viceroy and the Emperor. Due to the political structure, Britannia was always embroiled in a civil war (or multiple), although it went by a different name: War of Honor. Much of the Emperor's time was dedicated to easing tensions between the nobles and supervising peace treaties. Additionally, as the 21st century continued, Britannia struggled against rising terrorist/insurgency groups within its conquered Areas. Even before the introduction of the Knightmare frame, Britannia was teetering at the edge of collapse only held together by nationalism and expansionary military policy. The Knightmare frame upset the delicate balance of power... _

_ — _ _ The Political Landscape of Britannia at the Turn of the 21st Century by Marianne Yamamoto _

* * *

**Sagamihara (30km from Tokyo)**

Hidden beneath the bodies, Suzaku's eyes watered. It stunk. The metallic monsters, knightmares, landed and Suzaku forced himself to breathe slowly to calm his racing heart. He had to remain still. He was going to die and Nunnally would cry.

Amplified by a speaker, a woman cried, "Lelouch, Nunnally!" 

Lelouch moved in front of his hiding place, as if his presence could shield Suzaku. "Mother."

Something clicked and Suzaku wondered if the mechanical beast was falling apart. Then he could take Lelouch and Nunnally and run. More clicks, rumbles, and loud screeches. Suzaku tensed. What was happening?

Multiple feet crunched down on the debris and the woman spoke again, her voice no longer filtering through a speaker. "You and your sister aren't hurt are you? We landed in the Kururugi home just as the attacks began. You weren't supposed to run off Lelouch."

They had been outside of the shrine by complete accident. It was just luck that the invasion coincided with them sneaking out of the house. If they hadn't, he would be Britannia's captive and if he believed Lelouch's instincts, dead. Through the gap between the limbs, he watched Lelouch step forward.

"We're fine despite your invasion."

"And the Prime Minister's son? His mother is under the impression that he is with you."

Suzaku stiffened and he could feel one of the gigantic monstrosities move as the earth trembled in fear. "What do you want with him?"

"He isn't your friend Lelouch. The Eleven will betray you. Don't bother trying to protect him."

Out of sight, Nunnally shouted, "Suzaku wouldn't do that! He is the best friend ever."

He smiled at her remark before a dark thought chased it away. The woman had talked about his mother. Surely mother wouldn't have betrayed him, even if he was with the "enemy." She wouldn't would she? Or did they hurt her and force her to tell? What had happened to his mother?

Lelouch's voice broke through his thoughts. "We split up with Suzaku. He joined some scavengers to make sure we could get away. And he is my friend."

Their mother's voice turned frigid. "Search the area. I want the boy found, preferably alive."

"Mommy no!" Nunnally screamed and he could finally see her as she latched onto her brother. "You can't hurt him. Just leave him alone!"

"He is your enemy Nunnally. I'm sorry that you were deceived in such a way. I thought Lelouch would have known better and protected you."

Lelouch stood rigid and his fingers crossed behind his back, tapping together slowly: _ Stay safe. _Suzaku didn't dare to acknowledge the message as the knightmares began to whir and traverse the ground. He could hear bodies falling as they searched the area, not caring for the dead. Lelouch just stood there, his posture perfect. He was livid. Something moved near him and Suzaku clenched his eyes shut in fear. A rat scurried over his body.

Nunnally continued to cry. "Just leave him alone. I want to go home."

Suzaku opened his eyes and stared at her hugging her brother, looking utterly pathetic. Her fingers tapped, repeating a rhythm: _ Goodbye _ . _ Love you. _

"Very well Nunnally. It will be good to have you and your brother back home." Their mother's voice became louder as she ordered the troops: "Check the area once more, but we're moving out. The boy must have run away like a coward when he saw us approach."

No. He was just a coward hiding under the dead. A knightmare blocked his view and Suzaku felt tears leak out of his eyes. The ground trembled again and then they were gone. Suzaku didn't dare to move, his breath stayed trapped within his chest. They were gone. And sweet Nunnally's mother was out there annihilating his people and their culture. His heart beat faster. The weight of the bodies suddenly felt oppressive as if their spirits were there to drag him down to his death. Why was he allowed to live?

Moving on instinct, he wiggled free and gasped for air. The flies continued to buzz through the silence. At the edge of the mound, laid the backpack and his short sword: the last gift from his friends. The moon illuminated small red eyes around him and Suzaku stumbled to the backpack and grabbed the sword. A mosquito landed on his arm and he sank to the ground. A rat scurried by his feet.

All alone. Surrounded by the dead and inhumane eyes, Suzaku wept. All alone.

* * *

**Royal Palace, Pendragon**

Nunnally clung to her brother's hand, as Clovis led them through the hallways of the royal palace. He continued to prattle on, seemingly intent on catching them up on everything they missed during their time in Japan. Nunnally tuned him out.

Everything smelt clean compared to the homely and wooden smell of the Kururugi Shrine. Every moment spent with Britannians felt as if something about her was being stripped away. First it was the clothes replaced by more proper garments befitting of a princess. Then it was the shampoo, smelling of roses, and washing away the scent of the woods. The smell even lingered in her hair making her feel like a foreigner in her own body. They washed Lelouch too and he no longer vaguely smelt of cinnamon and failed cooking experiments.

Within the plane to Britannia, servants had braided her hair and forced her in a dress without any of the familiar braille tags that told her the colors. It was vaguely tight around her shoulder and the fabric irritated her skin, but she resisted the urge to tear it off.

Her brother steadied her as the carpet caught on the heels that she had been forced to wear. Clovis, completely unaware of her clumsiness, enthused about a concert he was planning in order to celebrate their return and how Odysseus would love to play the violin.

"We will not be attending," said her brother.

"Why ever not? Of course you have to catch up with everyone after you meet with Father. You have been gone far too long."

Lelouch stiffened and Nunnally knew he was holding back scathing remarks. "Nunnally and I are rather tired. It is only appropriate that we rest first. I'm afraid we would be rather dull company in our current state."

Clovis's feet hit the ground again, this time sounding more muffled. Remembering her lesson from the carpet, Nunnally carefully stepped forward. The floor was wood now. They were no longer in the public parts of the palace.

"You are quite right Lelouch. The party will be even greater if I have more time to prepare. The party of the year celebrating the return of my favorite younger two siblings. Yes, that sounds good. And Nunnally will have plenty opportunities to meet some knights."

"I'm not interested in meeting knights Clovis," said Nunnally. The knights accompanying her mother had forced them to abandon Suzaku. She had met enough knights.

"Well I'm sure we will find one you like. After all, considering your condition, you will need a Knight of Honor to keep you safe."

She would never trust someone who had brutalized Japan. All those people dead... Even if they became a knight later, what would stop them from committing the same atrocities?

"Clovis, I will protect Nunnally," promised Lelouch. Of course her brother would protect her from harm; she could always trust him to have her best interests at heart

"Lelouch, you will not be able to protect your sister forever. That is a burden too great for even you to bear. And since your mother dismissed her royal guard for their failure, you will need to build them from scratch."

Her mother had dismissed them all? Even her sister, Cornelia? That was cruel. She blinked, feeling the tears welling in her eyes.

Lelouch tightened his grip around her hand. "I will protect Nunnally. You can stop vying to get your men into our royal guard. There will be none. I cannot trust any of them."

Nunnally shivered as he completed his cold statement. They couldn't trust anyone. Even their sweet mother had endangered their lives for the glory of taking over Japan. Yet, her brother could not protect her and himself. He didn't have the power to act, and she, was blind. She was his burden that he willingly carried, but in doing so, he endangered himself.

As uniforms snapped and the hinges creaked, she felt her resolve firm. She wouldn't be a burden, she would be an asset. How? She did not know.

"Announcing Prince Clovis la Britannia, Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally vi Britannia."

"Thank you Clovis. You are dismissed." The voice was deep and authoritative, sounding slightly familiar.

Lelouch tugged her hand, signaling to bow. "Your majesty."

A slightly younger, but still male, voice chimed in. "Please there's no need for such formality."

The stranger's arm swept both her and Lelouch into a warm hug. He smelled of books and antiseptic.

The Emperor sighed. "Really Odysseus? At least introduce yourself before you hug someone who is blind. Sit down."

Odysseus released them and dragged something along the floor. "My sincere apologies Nunnally."

"It is alright big brother," she said. Clovis had made the same mistake.

Lelouch led her by her elbow and allowed her to sink into a soft couch. She leaned back and rested her head on his shoulder.

The emperor was the first to break the silence. "Marianne has arranged for you to go to the Ashford labs. But before you leave, we will discuss your time in Japan. Particularly, Genbu Kururugi and his associates."

"No," her brother said. He remained rigid, but she could hear his heart beating faster. "We are not your pawns."

He scoffed and Odysseus's chair creaked. "You are a prince, Lelouch vi Britannia, and therefore will fulfill your duty. You are a pawn because you do not stand on your own two feet. It is only because you are my son, that you continue to live despite your insubordination. But do not mistake such privilege for mercy, because I have none for weaklings."

"And mother? Is she a weakling too?"

"Who is leading the attack against Japan? Now cease your insubordination. What happened to the Prime Minister's son? Who will raise their swords against Britannia after we ground them into the dirt?"

"Why don't you ask your spies if we are such weaklings.?

"But none of them called Lieutenant Colonel Kyoshiro Tohdoh sensei."

Odysseus spoke up, his voice calm. "Father, isn't this going a bit too far?"

Her father's fist struck the table and he snapped at Odysseus, "Sit down. Eleven is too old for me to ignore such childish games."

Leaning against Lelouch, she could feel his rigid posture. He was planning on being stubborn. Her own heart thumped faster. There was no guarantee for their safety... She couldn't trust her parents: only Lelouch.

Lelouch always protected her; it was time to return the favor. "Lelouch saw the knightmares approaching and told Suzaku to hide. You aren't going to find him."

"Nunnally," hissed her brother.

She continued regardless. "Brother learnt Japanese from Tohdoh, but they never talked about the military. Tohdoh was thinking of retiring although the invasion might have changed his mind."

The secret of a small little baby would stay with them. What was it that Lelouch said? Mix the truth with the lies. Her heart felt heavy at the repercussions that would follow. "Suzaku's father often called some General Katase or so. He sounded like a prideful man."

The emperor was appeased and dismissed them. They stood silently in the corridor, allowing their nerves to ease. She reached out to her brother, hoping that he wasn't mad at her.

Lelouch finally broke the silence. "That was very clever Nunnally. I apologize, I wasn't thinking clearly. You made the right call."

"You aren't mad at me?"

"The information is useless. Suzaku will have left already. And General Katase is stationed in Sapporo, to the North of the army. Tohdoh is the one who was running exercises in Narita and may have survived. He, unlike the general, may be able to convince the Prime Minister to surrender. At the very least, he will save the civilians. His honor demands it. You did well Nunnally. Thank you."

* * *

**Japanese Military Transport**

Tohdoh didn't allow himself to grieve as he passed the mounds of the dead. The second he allowed himself to think about it, he would break down. No, grieving would be for later... when they finally surrendered or were dead. No, he had to hold onto hope. The Prime Minister was to the West and then they could make a plan to save their people. He would be reunited with his wife and their small child: Kazuki. Hope was all they had in the desolate waste land of the dead.

"Lieutenant-Colonel, we are picking up someone on the scanners," said one of his men in the back.

Tohdoh frowned. "Could be a Britannian soldier... or scavengers."

The desperate were the most dangerous and everyone became alert. A scavenger would probably not be foolhardy enough to attack a military transport, but desperate men did stupid things. Tohdoh looked at the scanner and frowned. They were short and obviously stumbling. A survivor? Guns ready, they turned around the pile of bodies. In the middle of the road, stood a child, their hair wild and a sword in their trembling hands. A survivor.

"Halt," he ordered his men. He observed the boy and how he dropped into a familiar stance. It couldn't be. Surely he had died. "Suzaku?"

The boy stumbled slightly as he opened the door and there was an unfamiliar look in his eyes. But Suzaku remained still, his entire body tense and ready to flee or attack. This shouldn't have happened. 

"Suzaku, is that you?"

The boy jerked as if a marionette on strings and his head turned slowly to stare at him. "Tohdoh-Sensei?"

The disbelief in the boy's voice was clear and ignoring the shouts from his men, Tohdoh rushed forward and brushed past the sword to envelope the boy in a hug. The boy stiffened before the sword fell from his hands and he went limp, like all his strings had been cut. Then he cried, clutching his shirt eagerly. 

"We're going to be alright Suzaku," he said. 

His student didn't put up any resistance as he guided him to the transport. How had he arrived here? It was over a day's walk from the Kururugi Shrine. Suzaku shivered and he wrapped a wool blanket around him. Questions would wait. Suzaku wasn't in any state to answer them and he soon drifted off to sleep, still clutching his shirt.

They continued to drive forward, scanning the skies for Britannian troops. It was mostly safe here. The battle was further up North and to the West. All that was left were shattered buildings and broken bodies. Suzaku stirred and slowly opened his eyes.

"We still got another five hours Suzaku. Sleep."

He gripped the blanket tightly and stared at Tohdhoh. "What happened to mom?"

The lie was at the tip of his tongue. But he couldn't. It was pointless. Everybody knew. There was no way to protect Suzaku from the horrible truth. "Her execution was broadcasted yesterday morning. I'm sorry Suzaku."

He felt sick but Suzaku just leaned back, as if he had been expecting the answer. "Why is Lelouch always right?"

Lelouch vi Britannia... their safety card that in the end meant nothing. The prince was devastatingly smart, learning the rules of Shogi by just watching him and Nagisa play. Then he had bartered his wins for Japanese lessons. In hindsight, he should have payed more attention. Lelouch and Suzaku's escapades into the forest no longer seemed so innocent. 

Curiosity burned through his veins. "What did he say?"

Suzaku remained quiet for a moment, looking outside at the tall trees. Just as Tohdoh began to worry that he pushed too far, Suzaku replied, "He told me that Britannia would kill me if I was lucky. I would just be a tool to force Japan's surrender... He saved my life. And you would kill him, wouldn't you Tohdhoh-Sensei? He is your enemy now."

"No. I wouldn't harm him Suzaku-kun." Every time he thought of the young Prince, all he could see were the haunted eyes of a child. "But what happened? The Kururugi Shrine was captured within the first hour."

"We were outside in the forest. We saw the bombs drop and then Lelouch told me that we had to run. We hid in our secret hideout. Lelouch prepared for it you know. He had stocked food without me noticing and made a bunch of traps. But Lelouch was worried that they would find us if we stayed near home... So we tried to head to Tokyo..."

Tohdoh waited patiently for Suzaku to continue. He wouldn't push his student.

"There was a knightmare patrol. Lelouch told me to hide... and I did. He lied to protect me..."

Tohdoh thought of the overturned knightmare frames near the Kururugi Shrine that the advance team had discovered. It seemed that Lelouch's liberal acquisition of sakuradite proved itself to be effective. If Tohdoh survived, he knew that he never wanted to face the prince on the opposite end of the battle field. There was a sense of callousness and practicality a commander needed to make the hard choices. Lelouch already had that, his innocence stolen by an attempted assassination. Coupled with his creativity and willingness to adapt, Lelouch would be a terrifying opponent and Britannia would use him. After all, the Emperor already had risked his son to insure a swift invasion of Japan. 

"Lelouch is a good friend, Suzaku. Hold onto that friendship." It might very well save Suzaku's life one day. 

The transport stopped in the middle of the forest and they slowly disembarked. Soldiers filtered through the trees, saluting when they caught sight of Tohdoh. He noted that Suzaku had grabbed his backpack, which contained his father's wakizashi. Someone must have radioed in to tell the Prime Minister that his son had arrived, because in the midst of unloading the transport, Genbu Kururugi wandered into the chaos, his eyes scanning the crowd. He looked at his son for one second, before, in an uncharacteristic display of emotions, enveloped his son into a hug.

"I'm so glad you are alive Suzaku-kun."

"To-san," sobbed Suzaku.

"We will destroy Britannia for this Suzaku. We will show them what it means to be Japanese."

Suzaku stood there, holding onto his father as if he might vanish. At least there was one happy reunion tonight, even if the Prime Minister had made a false promise. They would have to surrender. The civilian casualties were rising every day and as Lelouch had once explained over a game of Shogi, Britannia kept to different rules of engagements for Wars of Conquest. He should have listened instead of discounting the prince as a traumatized child. The boy had warned him.

He turned away from the reuniting father and son, to deal with his men. Patience was the greatest virtue of a warrior and he would protect the people of Japan. "I want a list of everything we have that contains Sakuradite. And someone get me a map."

At five, the Prime Minister announced that the Japanese would fight to the very end. Even the children would be drawn into this conflict. Orders were orders, so he retreated to his tent office to work on his plan. Hopefully, he could convince the man that such suicidal actions weren't necessary. It was after dinner, surrounded by maps and piles of supply papers, that someone asked him if he had seen the Prime Minister. Possibilities ran through his head as he rushed to the Prime Minister's wooden cabin. He was so used to dealing with traumatized soldiers in the past few days... that he had miscalculated. Perhaps gravely so.

He pushed his way through the door and the scent of blood drifted to his nose. He knew what he would find. In his idiocy, he hadn't thought of how Suzaku would react. Suzaku who was so proud to be Japanese and best friends with a coldly practical prince.

In the middle of the small living room, Suzaku kneeled on the ground, blind to the outside world. Besides him, his father lay on the ground, the wakizashi piercing his gut. The Prime Minister was dead by the hands of his son. He had failed his student today and another part of his heart shattered. 

"Come on Suzaku," he whispered gently. Carefully, he grabbed the boy's hand guided him to his feet. "Let us clean you up."

Suzaku nodded and stumbled towards the bathroom and Tohdoh glared at the body besides him. If he hadn't given the order to fight to the death.... but it was useless to consider "what ifs". The Prime Minister was murdered and his people would yearn for vengeance. He couldn't do that to Suzaku. His student needed help, not hatred aimed at him from every turn. Wasn't it the prerogative of the master to protect his student?

Suicide. He looked down at the sword. Everyone knew it was the Prime Minister's favorite, hanging on his office wall at home. The Prime Minister committed suicide not willing to watch the Japanese die under his orders. There would be a total surrender and he would disappear with Suzaku and the rest of the military.

"I will not apologize Kururugi-Shushou for what I am about to do nor do I ask for your forgiveness. I will continue to fight for Japan... but Japan is its people as well."

He bowed to the former Prime Minister and walked out of the cabin to tell the biggest lie of his life. May the gods have mercy on his soul.

* * *

**Britannian Military Base, Tokyo, Japan**

Reuben glanced down at Tokyo as he passed by the large windows. The architecture was definitely unique and he hoped that some of it would remain. There was no reason for Tokyo to be rebuilt as a replica of Pendragon. Not that it really mattered. His phone buzzed and he closed his eyes. If it was Lord Siebenberg again trying to earn some favor, Reuben was going to blow a fuse. Preferably in the brat's knightmare. His phone buzzed again and his eye twitched. Why couldn't he just get an hour of peace and quiet?

He flipped open his phone and saw the message. It was from Sarah, his lab assistant. Had something happened in the lab?

"Sarah, what happened?"

"Lord Reuben," she replied cheerfully. "Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally have arrived at the labs. I've been helping them get settled in. I also wanted to warn you that Margrave Oberstein is in Tokyo. His son is apparently in charge of the ground troops in the area. It would probably be best to avoid him, especially with the rumors."

Massaging his nose, he asked, "What rumors?"

"Oh, you didn't hear? They're saying you are going to be granted the title of Margrave for your development of the Knightmare frame. Either Kagoshima or Tokyo according to local gossip. It is all the rage among the locals on the Ashford Estate. It isn't everyday that someone sees a lord such as yourself earning the position of Margrave without playing the political game."

There was a reason he didn't try to play the game. "I cannot be a Margrave. Do you know how much work that would be? I would never have time for research."

"You could give some responsibility to your son. They exist for a reason you know."

He shuddered. "No. That little conceited brat will not touch the Ashford Estate, ever. He will remain the Viscount Hammond. Milly would make a much better Earl than he ever could."

"That's a bit harsh my lord."

Passing by, a young man bowed to him and Reuben shook his head, walking into the dining hall. "The Ashford family has always pursued science and the humanities. It shall continue to do so. My son would rather squander all our wealth covering up his affairs and on the military."

He caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair. "Sarah. Why is my son here?"

She didn't get to respond as suddenly someone grabbed the phone out of his hand and snapped it shut. 

Lord Siebenberg held the phone in front of him with a smile that didn't reach his face. "How good of you to join us Earl of Ashford. Although I've heard you might be a Margrave soon. So perhaps Margrave of Recreant?"

His son, Monty, walked up besides Lord Siebenberg with a satisfied smile. "Hello father. Finally engaging in war aren't you? But you are still a coward."

Looking around the room, Reuben noticed the other nobles backing away. There would be no help from them. "I wasn't aware you were in Japan Monty. I thought being a Viscount kept you busy? You certainly did not have my permission to be here."

"Lord Greenford thought it would be beneficial for me to have some actual experience father. He is quite pleased that the Ashford heir is honorable."

Lord Siebenberg bowed mockingly. "Lord Greenford has given me his backing, I challenge you to a duel of honor."

The knight was a decent pilot, a Baronet though, which explained his eagerness to risk his life for a higher position. "I assume you seek the traditional terms?"

"No, I believe that your family's subsidiary title will do. We are at war after all and I admit, being an Earl would be beyond me." Lord Siebenberg smiled, assured of his own upcoming victory.

Reuben kept his face passive. Who had come up with this plan? It was ingenious. Upon losing the duel, he would be disgraced and considered weak, therefore no longer in the running for Margrave. An assassin would kill him within the night and, despite his will, his son would become the Earl of Ashford. It wasn't his son's style, which meant someone else was behind it. But there were too many in court who had much to gain if he died.

The familiar voice of Margrave Oberstein cut in: "I object to such a farce. War is no time for such petty squabbling and you, Viscount Hammond, are an utter fool. It is truly unfortunate that you think you can match your father. And Sir Siebenberg you are just a tool, proving yourself unworthy of the rank of viscount."

Reuben watched flabbergasted as his rival defended him, although it would be for naught. Siebenberg and his son were stubborn individuals enamored by the idea of power. The law was clear and it wasn't to his favor.

Siebenberg scoffed. "I have Margrave Greenford's blessing in this challenge. Even the Emperor cannot dismiss our laws. The Earl of Ashford must accept my challenge."

"Very well," he tipped his head and Reuben could feel the oncoming trap. But for whom? "If I cannot convince you of the foolishness of your actions, I will oversee this duel. After all, it would be most unwise to make an enemy of a Margrave."

Siebenberg lifted his chin. "I acquiesce in your ruling. And by what rules will you hold this match?"

"None." Delight spread across Siebenberg's face. "Of course, considering the new age of war upon us, I believe knightmares are fair weapons. Both of your knightmares are ready in the courtyard. I already took the liberty of prepping them."

The surveying nobles fled the room and Reuben turned to his rival. The man had saved him, for in knightmare combat, despite his lack of skill as an ace, he was knowledgeable enough to have a chance. Had the duel been with pistols, swords, or fists, he would be dead. And his death surely would have benefited Margrave Oberstein and his efforts to corner the knightmare market.

"I would suggest killing the young errant knight Lord Ashford. Of course the board has been set already, but by doing so, you may stave off change for another year."

The knightmare reduced the mortality rate of the pilot, but the current model had weaknesses to exploit. Future models would be even more secure and the risk of death in challenges for noble titles would be lowered. "I could have insisted on a traditional duel and appointed a champion."

"Empress Marianne defended you last time didn't she? With her crippled, she wouldn't have been able to fight in a traditional duel anyway. And Sir Siebenberg is a capable duelist. You will also find that Margrave Greenford has bribed all the skilled fighters in the area. There would have been no aid there."

"And the thought of manipulating my son to acquire my other knightmare plans didn't occur to you?"

The look the elder man sent his way told him the obvious truth. "Your assistant, while annoying steadfast in keeping your secrets, did prove one thing to me without a doubt."

"Oh?" He should definitely rescue William; he was a good kid.

"That you alone are the genius behind the knightmare frame. Well, the only one alive, that is. Without you, development would stall and I rather prefer having an influential Margrave in my debt."

Reuben nodded, accepting the truth, but knowing it was just one aspect. Everyone had plans within plans and if he became a Margrave his time would be seriously limited. That wasn't even considering the ramifications of his duel. The knightmare required skilled pilots: the kind that couldn't be taught. The writing was on the wall. The question was where did Margrave Oberstein want to steer the ship?

"I thank you Lord Oberstein. I look forward to a fruitful partnership. I have a duel to win."

The man inclined his head and let him pass into the courtyard. Perhaps, the question should be where Reuben wanted to steer the ship? The Ashford family had stayed out of politics for a long time, even managing to be neutral throughout the majority of the Emblem of Blood. It seemed that the politics would be unavoidable for Reuben this time. A shame. 

His knightmare towered over him and he scanned the exterior noticing the small signs of attempted sabotage: the idiot couldn't even do that properly. Shaking his head, he brushed past the aides and rerouted the power: the power drop was negligible for anyone who wasn't an ace. The knightmare powered up slowly and he could see Siebenberg already entering the courtyard.

What a ridiculous place to fight. He would be quick, there was no reason to demolish the last standing part of Tokyo over such foolishness. He raised his slash harken and he waited for the signal. 

Seibenberg dashed forward, guns blazing. But Reuben had already won. He pressed the button and the slash harken fired true, hitting the metal at its weakest point and with Seibenberg dashing forward, it easily pierced the chassis. The auto-eject was triggered.

He had won the duel without shedding a drop of blood. Now the ball was in the Emperor's court. The only question was how many more ambitious knights would have to challenge nobles until the Emperor made his decision. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Schneizel and Cornelia are born one day apart. A lot of other characters are born in February as well.  
-Most of Code Geass happens right around Tokyo. It is sort of ridiculous how all major events happen there.  
-Tohdoh and Chiba are married and have a child according to the wiki. I never got that impression while watching the show, but I'm rolling with it.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Still looking for a Beta. As I don't have a beta, please tell me if you spot typos or inconsistencies. It is much easier to fix them now than after I wrote twenty chapters. Also feel free to leave constructive criticism. :)


	5. The Forges of Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: If Only There Was No Need For Lies

_ Judicial duels were common in the medieval age to determine the guilt as God would protect the innocent. Over time, judicial duels became more regulated to combat skilled warriors who would falsely accuse others to gain wealth. Emperor Ricardo von Britannia acknowledged that the practice benefited the strong and disenfranchised the weak. Given the recent humiliation by Napoleon and the fall of the French aristocracy, Emperor Ricardo sought to strengthen the nobility and established the War of Honor and honor duels to keep the nobility strong and cull the stagnant.  _

_ Where Wars of Honor strengthened the prestige of the noble house, honor duels revolved only around lordship. Honor duels, unlike the judicial duel, did not require a wronged party. Instead, any member of nobility (including knights) could declare a duel as long as they had the patronage of a higher ranked noble than their opponent. Low ranking nobles disproportionately issued and received challenges while a Margrave was untouchable unless they issued their own challenge. Royalty and commoners were excluded from such practice and had to engage in warfare to prove their strength. Swords, guns, and eventually knightmare frames were common weapons among duelists.  _

_ -Honor Duels in Britannia _

* * *

**Ashford Labs, Location Classified**

Lelouch paced around the room, unable to keep still as thoughts ran through his mind. His father had called him weak. Nunnally had condemned General Katase to death in order to protect her brother. And Suzaku... he didn't know. Ignorance was the worst feeling. It caused his stomach to tighten painfully and constantly taunted him in the back of the mind. There was no way he could know if his best friend was alive or among the nameless dead. 

Someone knocked politely on the door, before opening it, and curtsying. "Your highness. I hope you are settling in well. I am Sarah. Is there anything I can get for you?"

The subservience made his skin itch and he yearned, once again, for the simplicity of Japan. They had been respectful, but not subservient. "Thank you for asking. I'm doing—"

Nunnally snapped her book shut and spoke up from the corner of the room. "Lelouch you're bored. Please do something before you wear a hole in the floor."

He cringed in embarrassment although the young woman lifted her hand to cover a smile. "Would you like a tour your highness?"

"That would be wonderful." Nunnally was holding her book rather threateningly. It was best to leave her to her new found enthusiasm for studying.

Sarah smiled and he followed her outside of the room. She clearly worked in the labs judging by her lab coat and assured steps as she led him through the maze of passages and checkpoints. They passed through an airlock with reinforced walls. He could make out a small indentation in the wall, that probably protected a gun turret. 

"Lord Ashford takes security very seriously. Most of the lab is automated and the codes change every week."

He watched the security cameras swivel to focus on them as they stepped into a new hallway. "Has anyone ever attempted to break in?"

"A couple years ago your highness. It was before I started working here, but secrecy is our best security. The decoy lab has attempted break-ins every couple of months." She swiped her security card and blocked his view as she entered a pin. The doors slid open to reveal a large open space. "Welcome to the labs and, our newest prototype, the Horus. Maybe? The name hasn't been decided yet."

The Horus was different from the Ganymede, the Glasgow, or even his mother's Lefay. Unlike other knightmares, the cockpit was tall and at a slight angle. He could see a technician clambering out of the top. "It certainly is unique. Do those arms have.. Landspinners?"

Apparently comfortable around the lab, Sarah relaxed. "Yes indeed, good eyes. The idea is to make this knightmare easier to control. We're leaving the joystick shenanigans to Margrave Obserstein. The designs we're licensing them will never be able to complete with this wonder. And because the legs are the most vulnerable, we are giving the Horus more options for mobility."

He had on occasion perused some of Lord Ashford's papers. They were dense and mostly indecipherable, but the genius within them was always clear. Standing in front of an actual prototype, in the security of the lab, Lelouch finally found himself considering the marvel of technology... and the ramifications. The knightmare had already changed everything... And it seemed that Lord Ashford understood something that none of the nobles ever spoke of: the enemy would have their own knightmares.

Walking to a computer, he scanned the designs. "Landspinners require stable ground. Is the Horus going to be more agile?"

She pushed past him and navigated the plans. "We have some ideas. But a lot of problems can be subverted by reducing the weight. Right now, snow and swamps cause big problems because the knightmare will literally sink into the ground and get stuck. Sand and forests aren't the best either."

Lelouch was reminded of the knights who accompanied their mother. They had complained, numerous times, about the heavy damage that they incurred searching the forest filled with his sakuradite traps. Dense trees lowered visibility, hampered movement, and turned into deadly projectiles when ripped out of the ground due to explosions.

"What about mountains?" he asked.

She shrugged and brushed back her long, brown hair. "The slash-harken helps but there is a big danger of causing a rock slide. We're experimenting with rocks. Still, tanks will remain useful."

He frowned as he considered the weapon. It was just being used for warfare. "What about mining? One person could—"

“A couple million pounds is a bit too expensive of an investment, even for a noble.”

“Wouldn’t the knightmare be cheaper without all the weapons? Surely there is a way to reduce the costs.”

“Yes but there is no market right now. And then you need to convert the production line which would reduce the amount of knightmares available for the war effort. Even Margrave Oberstein, despite his practicality, wouldn’t agree to such an effort. And considering he is producing all the knightmares right now, you would have to convince him,” said Sarah.

“That’s unfortunate,” he murmured.

The sakuradite mines in Japan were going to become a lot more profitable after the fighting ceased and millions of starving Japanese would be pressed into labor. The thought sickened him. He looked away from the plans at the Horus. It would be years before it finished development, but it's more agile frame, and from what he glimpsed, new controller scheme, would make it more agile than any of the competition. He knew from his mother, that not all knightmare frames were accounted for. Some foolish knights had left their expensive, broken, knightmares on the battlefield, just waiting for scavengers. It would just take one to fall into the hands of the enemy for the rest of the world to develop its own knightmares.

The Horus would be ready in a few years and help sway the tide in Britannia's favor again. But would it be enough? Surely other countries would develop their own unique frames. And how long would it be before they copied the Horus? Britannia was confident in its own victory. Even Sarah was sure of the knightmare's superiority. The technology would have been better served aiding the civilians, but that wasn't Britannia's goal.

He looked at Sarah and offered his most polite smile. He knew how to act charming. "Do you have a simulator I could use? And perhaps a computer?"

Beaming at what she assumed was his enthusiasm for the subject, Sarah complied. Suzaku would disapprove of such manipulations, but he wasn't there. He was too weak to afford honesty. The faint outline of a plan formed in his mind. Somehow, he would insure that he and his sister were ever used as a pawn again.

* * *

**Tochigi, Area 11**

Tohdoh reclined in his seat, tearing his eyes away from the battle map. He and the remnants of the defeated Japanese army were hiding in the rural areas of Tochigi. Of course, they were no longer the army, but rather an independent military force, soon to be classified as terrorists by the new legal government. With General Katase in the North, fighting with the last of his men to the death, so the Europeans could evacuate the civilians. But what of the people who stayed? 

He could not justify sending all the newly enlisted youth under his command on a suicide mission, especially one that would amount to nothing. Hopefully Katase would be able to regroup with him, he could use his elder's assistance, but they couldn't wait. For Suzaku's sake, no for all the young children, he had to make sure this plan would work. 

He strode out of the tent and turned to the private guarding his tent. "Call Lieutenant Iki. I need to talk to him."

The young youth replied swiftly, "Sir."

He returned to the tent and a minute later, Major Iki, barely past the age of needing to shave, arrived. He stopped in front of his desk, his heels clicking together and a sharp salute that sent a breeze through his black hair. Everything about him screamed professionalism and eagerness. Yet, when he spoke, he sounded wary. "You called sir?"

"You are the highest ranking officer under my command, but more importantly, you have actual experience. We are going to turn around and march in Tokyo."

The youth stared at him, his eyes widening. "Sir? We are going to make the Britannians pay?"

Tohdoh gestured at the map. "The E4 highway is mostly intact. Britannia will undoubtedly see us coming and prepare accordingly."

"Then we'll die with honor,” said Major Iki, his face still as stone.

The government was dismantled. No, such a move would be dishonorable, but he understood the urge of wanting to make Britannia bleed. Britannia was going to bleed until it withered away, but first he had to have patience. "I don't intend to die Major Iki. Japan still needs me, Japan needs all of us. No, look at Narita."

Major Iki frowned as he ran his fingers along the map. "It's mountainous. I know we had some training exercises there."

An owl hooted outside and Tohdoh tensed, then relaxed as the crickets continued to chirp. "We can't win against knightmare, but the land itself can. And without knightmares, we will have the advantage. Our last training exercise was in Narita, we should have no problem hiding from the Britannians.

"You want us to hide! Like cowards." Major Iki clenched his fists before backing down, respectfully.

"No. We will wait. Build up strength. Shield the civilians and recruit our scientists. If we wish to win this war, we need knightmares of our own."

The youth stared at him with wide eyes. "Knightmares. But how sir?"

Major Iki would help. The gleam of madness in his brown eyes was fading as he grasped onto the line of salvation that Tohdoh had thrown him. "The ones I salvaged. It should definitely be enough to level the playing field and I'm sure we can find someone to improve the designs."

“We can still win?” The sound of hope in Major Iki’s voice physically pained Tohdoh. 

Tohdoh thought of Suzaku and the youths who had joined their ragged teams. He knew they were lying about their age, but he didn’t have the heart to tell them no. “With patience there is a chance. Right now… We will condemn the children to death if we act with bloodlust.”

"I understand sir. Thank you." Tears shimmered in the Major's eyes. "Keep my younger brother safe, sir, please?"

Iki was a common enough last name, that Tohdoh hadn’t linked Private Iki with the Major. Private Iki was a spitfire and compared to the perfect form of Major Iki, unrecognizable. But physically, now that he thought about, they both had the same plump cheeks, prominent nose, and a dark skin tone like those from Okinawa.

“I intend to get all my men out of here alive Major. There is of course a risk, but I’m not putting any of the youth at risk, that includes your brother. He enlisted a few months ago, didn’t he? Eighteen?”

Major Iki, for the first time relaxed. “He joined on his birthday. I tried to dissuade him, but… He looks up to me.”

Suzaku was just as hard headed when he got an idea in his mind. “Children are like that at times. I’m sure you will be able to protect him Major.”

Smiling, he asked, “How can I help?”

Tohdoh already had enough sakuradite, but he needed to get to the Tone River before the Britannians could stop him. They were too small of a force to incite fear... but, maybe, "Do we have any entertainers? Or people who worked in theater?"

"Private Senba was a stagehand before the invasion. I believe he specialized in practical effects."

"I think he will do. Fetch him please." There was a chance for his insane plan to work. Tohdoh could pull off a miracle with a couple hundred fresh recruits. Misdirection, sabotage, and a heavy dose of paranoia. How ironic that a Britannia Prince had taught him how to win. If he ever met Lelouch again, he would thank him. 

* * *

**Near Sapporo, Area 11**

Cornelia, now a Lieutenant Colonel after her success in landing troops on the Southern portion of Japan, growled as she stared at the map. The Northern portion of Japan was infuriating. Lord Ashford's squad would be just the first to witness the danger of trees. Knightmares were great in cities and urban situations, but the forest... It was agonizing.

A young knight, Sir Guilford, watched her from the corner of the tent. He was always eager to please and Cornelia, tired of having her strategies not pan out, gestured for him to come over. "What do you think?"

"We could starve them out your highness?"

Cornelia bit her lip and considered the possibility. It would be a prudent solution, but in that time, the Europeans and CHinese would be able to evacuate numerous civilians and military personal. Her father had been explicit, General Katase was either to be captured or killed in battle. She would not disappoint her father, especially after having failed to save her idol. 

If only they had actual Navy support. But the Navy was busy getting smashed in Area 10 by the Chinese, who had realized that Indochina was easy to take back with all their military efforts in Japan. It would be embarrassing for Britannia to lose, but nobody had even bothered to parcel out land to the lords yet, so there was no significant harm done. Japan was the better resource. Nevertheless, Lady Marianne had been dispatched and left Cornelia in charge. It was all up to her.

If she wanted to defeat General Katase she would need to out think him. He was, according to her father's intelligence, very proud. The information was pitiful and barely enough for her to work with. Her brother, Schneizel would know what to do, but this was her chance to prove herself to Lady Marianne after her failure to protect her. And maybe Lady Marianne would let her return to the Royal Guard? She had to redeem herself and be the one to bring victory to Britannia. In doing so, she would also show herself as a capable female warrior and finally lay to rest all of the court's doubts because of her sex. She just needed to win this.

"What do you think of General Katase, Sir Guilford?"

The young knight adjusted his glasses, letting Cornelia see his blue eyes. "He wants to make Britannia bleed your highness?"

"Please, just sir. I'm your commanding officer right now."

He nodded and Cornelia felt a shoot of pleasure as he complied. "Understood sir."

"What would he choose? Killing Britannians or saving the citizens?" She sat down and looked at the map. "I believe we have some party supplies. See if there is any purple paint available."

The knight turned to walk out, before pausing in horror. "You mean to use yourself as bait your highness? Please let me be your decoy. It isn't safe out there."

"I don't need anyone's protecting Sir Guilford. I won't be alone on the battlefield. If General Katase is able to out maneuver our entire forces to kill me, I will be at fault."

"Your highness, it doesn't matter how good you are if your own men don't respect you. I know you are a skilled commander, but many of them just see a princess playing dress up." He looked away, his face turning bright red. "Sir."

Real loyalty was hard to find. It was even harder to find people who would speak the truth when it could harm them. She found herself reconsidering the young knight. He was her age wasn't he? "How are you piloting scores?"

Sir Guilford turned bright red again. "High sir. I was able to pass the beta simulations."

Her eyebrows drew together. That was good. Very good. The majority of knights struggled with the gamma simulations. There were better, but he would work well to cover her back. Unless this was all a false ploy to gain her attention and sell her out. That was always a possibility. "You will join me. I haven't heard of the Guilford family."

It was rather adorable how easily he blushed. "My father is a small Baron. We don't have a lot of money."

That could mean many things, but she wanted to trust him. Still, she should have someone accompany her who she knew could be trusted. "Fetch Lord Gottwald please."

* * *

**Ashford Labs, Location Classified**

Lelouch smiled as he stepped out of the simulator. He knew he wasn't a very good pilot, partially due to his age, but mostly because he didn't have a natural aptitude for it. But he wasn't the worst and that was what mattered. His lack of skill did mean that two of his five plans needed to be either reworked or discarded. But decent skill meant that the other three plans were possible. 

Nunnally walked up to him, no longer using the cane to navigate the compound. "Are you finally going to tell me Lelouch?"

"Sorry Nunnally. Someone might overhear?"

"The robots you mean. Please... It's agonizing waiting and knowing you have a plan."

He leaned against the wall, enjoying the lack of oversight. The labs were definitely preferable to the Royal Palace, or really anywhere in Pendragon, where there was never any privacy. "I haven't fleshed them out yet Nunnally. I'm considering my options and it also depends on what you want."

Smiling, Nunnally drew out a small piece of paper, covered in braille. "I'm making a list of schools. It's really hard to find ones accepting blind students, but I'm going to school. I know I can have tutors, but I'm never going to meet people who can be my allies if they are all filtered past mother first. They will be her allies."

Nunnally had grown up. He missed that piece of innocence, but there was no way to get it back. If she wanted to attend school, he would make it happen. There was just one problem. "You can't go as Nunnally vi Britannia."

She did a little excited hop and beamed. Her smile was dangerous. "Already knew that! I'm going to be Nunnally Lamperouge brother. I already wrote my entire backstory. Read it."

And the fact that she was seven became, once again, apparent. Shaking his head fondly he ran his finger along the paper. "Nunnally... You're not going to get away with making father a spy who tragically disappeared in a hurricane. And are you sure you want to be a commoner?"

"There's a high chance I'll be recognized if I'm not. Besides, if I'm leading a double life, I am not going to be someone's dress up doll in both."

He didn't understand completely, but Nunnally was still bitter about being given new clothes. She constantly complained that they felt and smelled wrong. But even if he couldn't relate, he would respect her wishes. A commoner definitely had more freedom in how they dressed. Of course she couldn't live anywhere near as opulently, but Japan had mostly cured them of their lavish tastes. Mostly.

"I'll see if I can find a school that accepts commoners in Britannia. Lets leave foreign schools as a last result. Their destruction is, after all, inevitable. And Lord Ashford's granddaughter is arriving tomorrow morning. Maybe recruit her."

"Thank you brother."

Was it wrong to manipulate his host? Lord Ashford seemed genuinely nice although him profiting off the war, left a bitter taste in Lelouch's mouth. Nunnally would need someone to protect her, and maybe the granddaughter would fill that role. Should he join Nunnally? No. A schoolboy would not suit him; he would be bored out of his mind. It hurt to think that he would be separated from her, but she wanted this.

"You sure you will be fine? I don't want to leave you alone but..."

She hugged him. "You're being silly. Of course I'll miss you. We need each other. But I'm going to be your ears and you're going to be sword, although you'll definitely need to get fitter for that. And then we'll be unstoppable. I will write every day of course and you are going to do the same. And record messages. I'll make new friends, good friends, and they will help me take pictures so you can know who they are."

He chuckled and hugged her back, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry Nunnally. I just feel like I failed you. I should have done more."

"Clovis was sort of right you know. You cannot do everything. I need to stand on my own feet and that means facing the truth. You'll always protect me, but I'm going to protect you too. You will lie to protect me from the truth and I'm going to walk my own path to protect you. I will help you. I am not your burden."

A single tear escaped his eyes and he chuckled. She had gotten so wise. He had wanted to protect her innocence, but the invasion of Japan stripped that decision from her. Perhaps if it had been earlier, she would not have been so perceptive, but Nunnally was his sister and she refused to be broken. "I love you Nunnally. Never change."

* * *

**Grunehre Mansion, Homeland**

Arthur Greenford sat alone in his office lined with various expensive books, many of which he wrote himself. A warm crackling fire tended to by an unspeakable, crackled behind him. Usually, he would be relaxed in his private study, instead he glared at the large video screen on the wall and the smiling Margrave Oberstein. That man was a weasel, a brilliant one, but still a weasel. Arthur could never fathom what Oberstein wanted even after all these years. To think they once were friends.

"What the hell were you thinking in supporting Ashford? And then making it a knightmare duel? You could have just acted his as his champion if you really needed him alive. Then there would have been a chance that he remained an earl. Instead, that honorless and pathetic excuse for a noble will become a margrave."

Oberstein had the audacity to shrug. "You were foolish in supporting Sir Siebenberg. A baron challenging an earl, that was always going to make waves of the unfortunate kinds. And you don't have to worry. I've heard through the grapevine that Princess Guinevere is pushing for him to receive Tokyo."

His gut reaction was too claim that was exactly why he should worry. Then he considered the numerous military reports covering his desk detailing rising terrorism within Area Two and Seven. It was pathetic that such lesser beings sought to oppose the might of the Empire. Numbers were such pests, but even a lowly nuisance could multiply to extremes. Ashford was weak and a pacifist. He didn't have the strength of character needed to exterminate pests before they could become a problem.

"Tokyo avoided most of the bombing didn't it?"

Oberstein leaned back with a small pleasant smile. "Indeed. Tokyo currently houses the largest concentrated group of numbers. It seems Princess Guinevere still harbors a grudge against Lord Ashford. Perhaps due to his historical neutrality or for his role in introducing Marianne to the Emperor."

That commoner wench did not deserve the title of royalty. She had already gained knighthood because of Lord Ashford, it was unbecoming for a girl to strive for an even greater position. Arthur would think the Emperor weak for his infatuation with a commoner, but the man was terrifyingly ruthless in all other matters.

"And what is it you gain Lord Oberstein by setting a precedent of allowing knightmares in duels of honor?"

Oberstein remained impassive. "Accelerating the inevitable. From my understanding Lord Ashford understood that as well, although leaving the knight alive means that the game is a little more difficult."

What was inevitable? A measly knight had no chance to win against a powerful noble. The weasel was trying to distract him.

"And why do you need Lord Ashford alive for that?"

Oberstein laughed and shook his head. "You did bribe Siebenberg to kill him! How short sighted of the Purist Party. Such a blunder is quite unlike Margrave Gottwald."

His eye twitched. One day he would crush Oberstein for his continued insults. "Margrave Gottwald refused. Apparently his son is still loyal to the wench, even though she dismissed him. And don’t pretend you never sent an assassin after him yourself. And then didn’t you lose another one trying to break into his labs three years ago?”

Oberstein frowned briefly and Arthur allowed himself to gloat; it seemed he wasn’t supposed to know that. It was rare to have something to hold over Oberstein’s head. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about.”

“You’re a hypocrite. You always wanted him dead. So why does he suddenly need to be alive? If you dodge the question one more time, I’ll lend my support to Margrave Goldbaum."

“You hate that idiot as much as I do, Lord Greenford.” Oberstein rolled his eyes and paused, waiting just long enough for Arthur to start gnashing his teeth in irritation, before continuing. "No need to get so feisty. I underestimated Lord Ashford’s mind. Without him, it will take years to reverse engineer the knightmare and make any significant progress. The extra work will slow down his utter ridiculous research speed and give me the opportunity to expand my production facilities to deal with demand. It's simple business."

Arthur leaned forward. “And when Lord Ashford fails in Tokyo??”

Oberstein smiled like a cat that just swallowed the canary. “Then his ally swoops in and rescues him once again to offer him a generous position in my own labs. Only this time, stripped of his title, he will be completely beholden to me. And with that, all of his genius will be at my disposal. A very profitable business for me.”

It was an ingenious plan that would benefit Arthur, if that was the truth. "Perhaps I would believe you, if you joined the Purist Party. The commoners have become increasingly ambitious lately. And with our backing, Margrave Goldbaum would cease to be a problem."

Oberstein looked thoughtful. "Perhaps I was a bit hasty to turn down your invitation all those years ago Lord Gottwald." He leaned forward and the slight twitch of the corners of his mouth, told Arthur that Oberstein was pleased. "I'm not convinced that your members are committed to the cause. I appreciate the commitment and only do things if I intend to follow through. Would you be willing to accept that?"

His offer tasted like ashes in his mouth. Was he willing to let Oberstein come in and commandeer his cause? If he did, the Purist Party would rise to prominence, but he would inevitably lose power. Power was the only way to survive and Oberstein collected it constantly. "Maybe we will convince you Lord Oberstein. With the expansion of the Empire, we finally have the ability to act."

"Perhaps," he said. "I understand that I may have upset you with my actions. I'll provide monetary support to your party and if you can find me a genius who understands the knightmare frame, I will publicly join your party. Farewell Lord Greenford."

The call ended and Arthur stood up to pour himself a glass of wine. Their relationship used to be simple when they had played together as young boys. That friendship had evaporated when Oberstein's elder brother died and he was suddenly thrust into the war. The Emblem of Blood had scarred every noble family. Arthur's family had not died in vain. He wouldn't allow the commoners to spit on their sacrifice. He thought Oberstein was similar, but who knew what thoughts scurried in his head.

The only thing Arthur knew with certainty was the Obserstein still mourned his brother: Rudolf Oberstein who was shot by the men under his command. Arthur glanced at his mantle and shifted the vase, to reveal the small jade picture frame. His mother, obsessed with photography, had taken the black and white photo when they had been playing **. ** Carved in the stone were three simple names: Arthur, Frederick, and Rudolf.

In the photo, Rudolf leaned against the tree, laughing his head off, as Arthur and his best friend, Frederick, tried to rid themselves of the numerous frogs that Rudolf had dumped on them. The two of them had been so angry at him, but now, looking back, Arthur wished they had said goodbye. It was the last photo of Rudolf.

They news of the soldier’s mutiny, arrived two weeks later, shattering their childhood. The dishonor of such an act spurred Arthur to renounce his loyalty to Emperor Brandon vi Britannia and join Oberstein in avenging his brother. They had succeeded in wiping out the cowards, but Oberstein... He was never the same afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-The wiki says Empress Elizabeth nominated Sir Ricardo von Britannia as her successor. This means that either he was a knight (and didn't own land) or was a baronet. I'm headcanoning this as him being her Knight of Honor.  
-I redid the area numbers because it didn't make much sense. We still end up with the same territory belonging to Britannia (mostly, since the map itself is inconsistent), but the order it was acquired is a bit different. Before I redid the numbers from scratch, I was trying to rationalize how Canada could be Area 2. I somewhat managed so Canada is part of Area 2.  
-What is up with Australia? Britannia conquered New Zealand... but completely ignored Australia? Why?
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Also doing some ninja edits sometime between now and the end of the weekend, so my apologies if this makes the fic look like it updated.


	6. Spring's Tempest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: No Plan Survives First Contact With the Enemy

_ The Knightmare frame is without a doubt, the greatest scientific achievement in recent history. When the knightmare frame first arrived on the battlefield, it slaughtered the opposition. The common thought was that a single knightmare frame was equivalent to an army. Such a belief is foolish, but that thought changed the way Britannia approached combat for the next decade.  _

_ In many ways, the knightmare frame is the Britannian ideal of combat and honor. As winning a knightmare fight was a matter of skill and dependent on the capability of the machine, it exemplifies the idea of a single worthier soul. The ejection system allowed for a conclusive defeat without the risk of injury or death. The knightmare frame was the solution to the War of Honors and the multitude of Noble Heirs that were severely wounded and thus discarded by their family. But all the factors that led to Britannia enthusiastically adopting the knightmare frame, also spelled the end to Britannia's military might. _

_ —The End of the Golden Age of Knightmares by Lelouch Lamprouge (2014) _

* * *

**Britannian Military Base, Tokyo, Area 11**

Marianne detested the Elevens. The sun had barely begun to peak over the horizon when scouts detected enemy movement and she had been forced to wake up. Her entire body ached, but such pains had to be ignored for the good of Britannia. She had terrorists to deal with: the remnants of the Japanese army and riled up civilians. The government may have surrendered, but that meant nothing to the savages. 

She swallowed the scalding coffee and looked blearily at the gathered officers. "What is the situation?"

Lord Oberstein spoke up first. "Scouts saw troops assembling on the E4. The morning fog hasn't cleared up yet, so it is hard to tell their numbers. We can only assume this is a last desperate measure to retake Tokyo."

Only fools would undertake such a suicidal mission. Despite having superior numbers, Britannia would win any engagement due to their knightmares. There was no weapon that could stand up to the might of a knightmare. Suicidal. Marianne shook her head. Elevens were inferior to the Britannians, but surely they weren’t that stupid? Britannia wouldn’t lose Tokyo, even if it meant burning it to the ground with the terrorists in it.

Marianne straightened in her wheelchair and gazed at the officers dismissively. "How did they get past our troops? From what I understand, General Katase is up North fighting Cornelia."

"We don't know," said Lord Mayer. "It should be impossible, yet the troops are there. It could be they hid while our armies swept North."

"Cowards," commented Lord Agner. The rest of the officers nodded in agreement. 

Marianne took another sip of coffee. She just wanted the war to be over so she could meet up with her two precious children, but until that could happen, she would make the Elevens pay for delaying her and brainwashing her sweet little angels. "What sort of aerial power do we have?"

Lord Agner looked down at his papers. "We've got three bombers that need maintenance and one reconnaissance plane. The rest have been sent to deal with Area 10."

That was rather unfortunate. They still had knightmares, but they weren't impervious. "Send out the reconnaissance plane once the fog fades. I want accurate intel on their numbers and movement. And someone call Lord Ashford."

Lord Newton frowned. "Are you sure we need him your highness?"

Marianne glared at the Two standing by the door and she scurried off to fetch Reuben. She shouldn't have to explain herself. "Lord Ashford is going to be the Margrave of Tokyo. All that is left is for the paperwork to be properly filed. The Emperor has already signed off on it."

Nobody dared to question her, but she could feel their animosity. It seemed some things would never change. To many of them, she was still the commoner brat who had seduced the Emperor. From a businessman's daughter to an Empress, she had come further than she ever dared to dream. She and Charles would break the cycle of hatred and finally bring peace. Once they succeeded with the Ragnarok connection, she wouldn't have to deal with such foolish men.

Reuben strode into the room, his face unusually serious, and bowed. "Your highness."

"Sit down Reuben, please. I'm sure you have heard about the situation along the E4?"

He sat down, ignoring the glares he received from the other nobles. "Of course. I assume you have a plan in mind?"

There was a reason she liked Reuben beyond the debt of gratitude she owed him. He was always quick on the uptake. "Despite the surrender of the Japanese government, the Elevens continue to fight on. This is, quite simply, due to the government surrendering before we had the chance to show the true might of Britannia. It was quite the ingenious plan the Prime Minister came up with."

Lord Oberstein leaned back and rolled a coin between his fingers. "You mean psychological warfare? We do need enough Elevens for mining operations on Mt. Fuji."

"Exactly correct. The Eleven army will head along the E4 and into Saitama. I don't want to damage Tokyo anymore so we will be taking the fight there. We'll send out a few sections who will plant explosives. Lord Newton, your men will round up some Elevens, preferably women and children. Fifty should do."

Reuben crossed his arms, looking slightly disturbed although she couldn't fathom why. "And what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to make sure that the bombers are fully operational. I also want you to prep my knightmare."

His eyes narrowed. "You're stressing your body with the Nevere system. I'm asking you to consider your health. There will be detrimental effects."

“There is no need to worry.”

Reuben clenched his teeth and glared at her, before taking a deep breath. He glanced at the others and pursed his lips. “We haven’t had the time to rigorously test the Nevere system. We know nothing about the long term impacts. And I know that you think fatigue and sores are negligible, but eventually your body won’t be able to keep up. Please, take it easy so I can monitor your health. You haven’t fully recovered from the assasination attempt.”

Fortunately he didn’t elaborate. If others knew that she slipped into comas, she would be perceived as weak, vulnerable. For her children’s sake, she couldn’t afford such knowledge to get out. It made sense for Reuben to worry, not knowing she did it deliberately every time she activated her Geass. There was nothing to worry about. She had a clean bill of health.

"The faster I finish in Japan, the sooner I can rest."

* * *

**Saitama, Area 11**

The fog did not fade. Marianne cursed to herself quietly as she observed the orange fog rolling forward. The enemy was purposefully obscuring their movements and lighting fires to mask their heat signatures from infrared. She was leading her men blind and it did not please her. Still, with all the fog, the enemy could not see clearly either, which leveled the playing field.

Her radio crackled and a frantic voice screamed, "Knightmare! The enemy has knightmares!" 

Marianne looked up again and watched in horrified awe as the silhouette of a Glasgow appeared. Had there been a leak? But if the plans had somehow reached the Japanese, surely they would have been more prepared for their invasion? It didn't make sense and she narrowed her eyes at the silhouette as her troops began to scatter in panic. A small company charged forward, intent on ending the threat.

"Stand your ground," Marianne shouted. The enemy had revealed their ace, but why? It would have been more advantageous to keep it back and let it crush their forces when they overextended.

Four knightmare pilots ignored her. A blast exploded from the ground and Marianne watched in horror as the knightmares were shredded to bits. "Reuben. How?"

Reuben's own voice was filled with horror. "Sakuradite. But it shouldn't be that... volatile."

An army hadn't gotten past Cornelia. This was a small force relying on ambush tactics to tackle a much larger force. Distraction. Deception. How long had it been since she fought such a battle? They had all gotten rusty fighting in War of Honors where such cowardly tactics were looked down upon. The Japanese flag rose above the fog.

"Lord Newton. Release a couple prisoners. Make sure they see the see the flag."

Her cold eyes watched as twelve prisoners dashed across the landscape, so eager for safety, they never bothered asking why. No further traps were triggered and they disappeared into the fog. Were the traps weight sensitive? Remote controlled? Or had they just been lucky?

"Lord Newton, I want one knightmare accompanied by a couple prisoners. Make sure the enemy can see. And don't let them escape alive."

The Glasgow rolled across the ground slowly while the Elevens desperately tried to run for freedom. Just before they reached the fog, the pilot gunned them down. It was a befitting fate for such weaklings. After this show, no Eleven would ever dare to rise up again and her two wonderful children would be safe.

Should she sacrifice the pilot to determine the nature of the battlefield? "Lord Newton. Order the pilot to stay there. Have one other pilot follow the same route to back him up."

Against such a weak enemy, there was no reason to sacrifice troops blindly. The second pilot joined up with no casualties. So, they had been lucky. Or perhaps there was only one bomb to make them hesitate. What was the enemy's objective? Such a paltry force could never reclaim Tokyo. They were like a persistent mosquito, annoying because they kept dashing out of reach, but ultimately harmless. The enemy didn't attack the knightmares.

The enemy's knightmare was fake, a distraction. Her entire army was delayed fighting phantoms. Where was the real threat?

Lord Oberstein's voice crackled to life. "The base's security system has been triggered your highness."

Assassins intent on taking out an enemy commander. For not being Britannian, that plan was rather clever. Fortunately they didn't know that she fought on the battlefield and yearned to show her skills. She would never miss the thrill of battle.

"Lord Newton. Have your men follow the safe path and attack the enemy. Bring me their leader alive. I will destroy the people's last hopes."

The two pilots surged forward and a thin line of knightmares rolled forward through the safe zone. She would need a bomb squad after the battle was done, but the uncertain terrain was just an annoyance. The fight was over.

"Everyone else, fall back to Tokyo." She would punish them for trying to kill her and it served as an excellent opportunity to prove her strength to the Numbers. After this, the Elevens would be cowed and their proud spirit broken.

* * *

**Tone River, Near Saitama, Japan**

Tohdoh smirked as he watched the explosion go off in the distance and his men slowly sneaked back to the Tone River. He had bought his men five hours, but his little deception would soon be over. The enemy commander was Marianne vi Britannia and he would never underestimate her. One of the privates, Saito with hair that defied gravity, rushed over to him, trailed by another private aiding a couple civilians. One of them, a woman clutching her small infant son, gazed at him with adoration. 

"Sir, we have a problem," said Saito. "They were using civilians as human shields. We need to go back."

Tohdoh frowned as his men helped guide the civilians into the small boat. His heart felt heavy. Why hadn't he expected such tactics? Britannia did not care for his people. The wise choice would have been to abandon them, but Suzaku, Nagisa, and his infant son were in Tokyo. He had sought to protect them, but had he condemned them instead?

"I will only take volunteers. Someone inform Lieutenant Iki that I am putting him in charge. He knows the plan." Hopefully Lieutenant Iki would be able to adapt. He needed it to work.

One of the privates on the boat nodded. "I will inform him sir. And thank you. Good luck."

Saito gave a stiff bow. "I volunteer sir."

The men who hadn't board the boat all stepped forward, volunteering for the mission. Tohdoh pulled out his worn subway map. There were too many tunnels to guard effectively, so with some luck, they should be able to sneak into Tokyo. The actual rescue mission would have to be improvised.

Laying down the map, he let his volunteers gather around. Pointing to the map, he began to explain. "The Brits will be looking for our army after they discover the deception. I don't know how long it will take, but they should realize that we took the river. It is the only effective means of transportation that would bypass their military surveillance. That means that Marianne will lead the fight against Narita, hopefully reducing the security around Tokyo. That is when we move in. We will have to blend in with the civilians and hope that it is too cumbersome to take hostages to the battle on Narita and that an opportunity presents itself."

Saito frowned and looked at the red head next to him. "If we die, I'm doing it besides you Kudo."

Kudo laughed shrilly. "What's left to live for besides each other? But if you die for me, I will fight the Shinigami."

Pulling out a pack of pokki, Tohdoh offered it to his men. "No dying. We cannot save anyone if we're dead."

They nodded sincerely and a grim silence settled over them as they cleaned up their encampment. They would be traveling on foot to avoid attention. It was a ten hour long hike. Tohdoh sent a quick prayer to Bishamonten, hoping that the god of fortune and war could hear him. He needed all the luck they would get.

"Let’s head out. We don't want to be here when Britannia arrives." The soldiers nodded at his words, and fell behind him as they began the jog to find a subway tunnel.

They arrived in Tokyo as the sun began to set while storm clouds began to gather. Tohdoh slipped through the subways, thankful that his map wasn't entirely up to date, as it showed tunnels that were under reconstruction and therefore unnoticed by Britannia. That was the only piece of good fortune granted to him and his team. Britannia was on high alert with soldiers patrolling the street at every turn. 

Briefly, he considered finding Nagisa and seeking shelter with her, but he dismissed that thought, shaking his head. There was no need to endanger his wife and infant son, Ko. He had to hold onto hope that they were alright and staying out of trouble. They still had a chance to live, even if he failed here. Nagisa, Ko, and Suzaku would stay safe in Tokyo, out of danger’s way.

Saito shook his head as they snuck into sewers. "And I thought the clothes we filched from the trash were bad."

"Oh shut up," Kudo replied as he climbed down the ladder. "This is mostly a storm drain anyway."

"You know, I could almost imagine you aren't a red head with all that mud."

Tohdoh rolled his eyes at the bickering trio. He could feel the air getting more humid. "We need to find a safe house soon. The storm isn't going to wait for much longer."

The men glanced at the faint waning light through the gutter and shuddered. Rain could be torrential and in such tight quarters: deadly. The wind began to whistle as it danced between the buildings. Tohdoh pulled his stolen coat tighter and checked that his pistol was still safely tucked away. A tank rolled down the street causing the tunnel to shudder. They didn't have much time.

Small splashes echoed through the stone tunnel. His men froze, letting the water gently lap against their worn boots, the only part of the uniform they hadn't discarded. Saito drew his pistol and the wind howled again. The splashes got louder. 

A young woman, barely into adulthood stared at them with wide eyes. She was dressed plainly, but Tohdoh could see the small imprints of bladed weapons through her clothes. Saito aimed his gun at her and the small red dot danced on her forehead.

Tohdoh stepped forward, the murky water shifting around his feet. "Who are you?"

Her eyes narrowed and he could see her preparing to fight. There was something unsettling about the way she held herself and he was reminded of some of the servants in old wealthy families. "Just a simple maid sir... You're part of the Japanese army."

Apparently, she was one of those strange maids that served the rich. It didn't ease Tohdoh's worries. "We don't mean to cause you any trouble. Do you know where we could find a place to wait out the storm?"

The maid frowned, her brown hair drifting through the wind. Her eyes darted between him and his men: deliberating. Finally, she reached a conclusion, and to his surprise, kneeled down in the water. "Sayoko Shinozaki at your service. Do you promise to help liberate Japan and its people?"

Shinozaki? That name was vaguely familiar. He frowned. There had been a Shinozaki employed by Kururugi-Shushou. Hadn't General Katase's personal assistant also been named Shinozaki? He died several years ago from what he remembered. Was she a kunoichi? An assassin?

"I, Kyoshiro Tohdoh, do solemnly swear to work to liberate Japan and protect its citizens."

Sayoko nodded and he could see the tension draining out of her body. She pulled out a kunai and the deadly edge gleamed in the faint light. She flipped it in her grip and blood trickled down the blade. "Then my blade is yours. May it strike swiftly in the darkness and eliminate your opponents."

Small drops of rain began to patter on the streets above them. Tohdoh swallowed his trepidation. He was not of a noble family. He was a man of common means. Such a contract should be offered to people greater than himself, but there was no one else. It would be foolish to forsake such an asset because of propriety.

"I accept your service."

Sayoko smiled and straightened. "I have a safe house. We can wait out the storm there."

They stared at her, and watched as she walked past them confidently, in the direction from where they came. Saito shot him an indecipherable look and Tohdoh shrugged. They would have to trust her. She seemed to care for Japan, but that could all be a ruse. One could never trust a ninja.

* * *

**Tokyo, Area 11**

Marianne looked over the summary and the various troop reports. The infiltrators had entered the base with apparent ease, leaving a string of bloody bodies behind. Numerous knights and smaller lords were dead, but they had obviously not been the true target. Her own personal aid, Agatha, was found in Marianne's bed. It filled Marianne with righteous anger that the enemy would strike against those who weren't engaged in the war. Agatha had been innocent and in charge of her schedule. 

Every noble was on high alert. The death was a warning. It said that anyone could be next. The assassin and his team had to have been highly skilled to cause such wide spread carnage and to only trigger the alarms on the way out. Yet, even more irritating, was the report from Lord Newton.

The terrorists had apparently fled down the river meaning they had split their forces between Tokyo and Saitama to conduct a two pronged attack. The unknown commander was a subtle genius. Shaking her head, she authorized Lord Newton to continue to track the terrorists. She needed answers and the only way was to find the commander who had disappeared down the river with his men. 

Someone knocked on the door and Marianne set down her fountain pen as she nodded to the guard standing by the door. Lord Oberstein stood in the doorway and stepped into the room, his eyes feasting on her rather spartan surroundings. Marianne waited for his belated bow and wondered if it would be too rude to immediately dismiss him. While he had saved Reuben from embarrassment, Lord Oberstein's involvement reeked of a greater plot. 

It was a pity that the man never seemed to confide in anyone otherwise Marianne would have used her Geass on one of his subordinates to learn of his plans. The man was too paranoid for such a tactic to ever work which left Marianne with the old fashioned solution: talking. 

Lord Oberstein finally bowed. "Your highness. The infiltrators have disappeared completely, as if they were never there. My team has been unable to salvage the security footage. Considering their apparent skill, it is possible they will strike again. As you are the intended target, your highness, I suggest you move to a more secure location."

And then Lord Oberstein would take control of the military. Marianne leaned back in her wheelchair. "No. I will be staying here. Lord Newton is occupied, but Lord Agner is watching the Eleven prisoners. The Elevens are hiding the terrorists and for that, they will be punished."

Hidden behind his impassive face, Marianne could see a small pleased smile forming. He always did understand what she intended to do. It was a pity that she couldn't trust the man. Perhaps in another lifetime, they could have been friends. Lord Oberstein bowed. "I will set up the executions my lady."

She smiled and glanced back at her papers, before paging her new assistant. "Janice, please ask Lord Ashford to come to my office."

The judging stare from Lord Oberstein drilled into her. "Your highness, it may not be my place, but showing such blatant favoritism will only paint a target on Lord Ashford's back."

"Reuben is a close friend of mine. It is only fair to reward such service."

"But he has only ever been loyal to you, your highness. Many within the court are displeased that he continues to grow in influence despite his neutrality in the Emblem of Blood." Oberstein glanced at the guard and she could see him frown. "Furthermore, he clearly does not have the aptitude for command. He is too softhearted to be effective."

Marianne simply smiled. "Noted Lord Oberstein. But considering we should be wrapping up here in a few weeks and I trust Cornelia will handle the situation in the North soon, Area 11 will no longer be under the oversight of the military. It is only fair to give Reuben the opportunity to handle his estates at home before he must deal with Tokyo. Dismissed."

While not visibly satisfied, Lord Oberstein left. Reuben was always nice and transparent regarding his intentions. He was a breath of fresh air in the subterfuge of the court, part of the reason Charles forgave Reuben for not supporting his claim to the throne. Marianne tapped her pen on the desk and sighed as ink lightly sprayed her papers. Despite the common sentiment, he wasn't weak. If he wasn't so preoccupied with the design of the knightmare, Marianne would recruit him for the Ragnarok plan.

Princess Guinevere might have intended for Reuben to fail by becoming the Margrave of Tokyo, but Marianne was eager to see him prove his mettle. Reuben's brilliant mind would bring about great change to Britannia and he might be the only one who was capable of handling the Elevens who were proving themselves incredibly stubborn. 

* * *

**Tokyo, Japan/Area 11**

Suzaku listened to Chiba's quiet breathing as he stared at the ceiling. Chiba had found the abandoned apartment in the outer portion of Tokyo. Another small family, occupied the neighboring rooms. The previous owner was probably dead. Every few minutes a military patrol would sweep by, illuminating the cracks and bullet holes. In the corner of the room stood a makeshift bed and Suzaku could hear little Ko's whistling as he tried to breathe through a clogged nose. Another truck passed by and the bullet holes glared at him accusingly. Why was he allowed to survive? 

He reached out to rearrange his pillow, his hands shaking. Lelouch's mother, Bloody Marianne as the people called her, had held the first execution at noon. Chiba had tried to protect him from the news but the other refugees in the building talked in hushed scared voices. Apparently they were Elevens now, no longer Japanese. 

He had been proud to be Japanese, but then he killed his father. Japan was no more, they had surrendered and as long as the military fought, the civilians would suffer. Marianne, sweet Nunnally's mother, would kill them all in order to ensure peace. There was no hope for anyone. Ko, Chiba, Tohdoh, Kaguya... they would all die.

Marianne's demands rang through his head: one person to be publicly executed every six hours as long as the terrorists remained at large. Only one person needed to step up and sell out his own people to stop the execution. Anything useful to the military would be accepted. The question was who would go first? Who would be betrayed when the next mother was ripped away from her child and dragged in front of the firing squad. He could save one person. The son of the Prime Minister was surely of use. But he had promised Lelouch... and he didn't want to die. Was he a coward? Constantly seeking to survive while his people died around him? He had killed his father to save the people, but they were still dying because he didn't have the strength to turn himself in. 

Suzaku stood up and pushed aside the thin ragged blanket. Feeling around the dark, he walked outside into the fresh night air. The storm had finally purged the lingering smell of death and blood. Water guzzled through the drain and Suzaku shivered as the wind tugged at his clothes and fled towards the sea. He had heard of the miraculous escape of the Japanese army in the Nagisa mountains. Tohdoh had been successful although Suzaku missed his teacher. At least he was safe. No one knew where the army was hiding, not even Chiba.

"Hey kid! What are you doing over here?" shouted a female soldier.

Suzaku froze as the guttural English words swept over him. She sounded nothing like Lelouch. Suzaku turned, grateful for the low lighting conditions. "Sorry ma'am. I couldn't sleep."

The soldier stopped before him and he could make out purple hair escaping the gray helmet. He fidgeted as the masked face stared at him. "You're an Eleven."

He was wasn't he? Japan didn't exist anymore. He stared at the ground submissively. He shouldn't have gone outside. "Yes ma'am."

"You're English is quite good. Almost thought you were a rich Britannian there with that accent." His stomach growled. She took off her helmet and her hair clung to it as she held it under her arm. "Let us get you some food kid."

"But I'm an Eleven?" He was a murderer, a coward, unworthy. She should kill him. He had promised not to die.

"And I'm a Two. Give it a few years and everything will settle down. I'm Eira kid, what is your name?"

"Suzaku." He was an idiot. Surely she would recognize his name. "I could stop it you know."

Instead Eira smiled, sat down on the curb, and handed him a protein bar. "Suzaku. Nice name kid. And don't feel so guilty. There's nothing you can do kid. Just wait it out. It's not your fault." He began to cry and she froze, before awkwardly patting his back. "Look Suzaku. I promise I won't tell anyone. Just get it off your chest. Nobody will die because of you."

The despair burned through him and he choked as he tried to breathe in and calm himself. "I could turn myself in. I'm the Prime Minister's son. She would love to kill me."

Eira drew him into a harsh hug. "Kid. Nobody cares who your father is. You're not a terrorist. Don't die... And lose the posh accent. You're never going to blend in with the other Numbers if you speak English like a Noble."

He hiccuped and felt himself relaxed. She was a good person. "You sound like Lelouch. He taught me. He would be so mad at me right now. Crying. He never cries, he just keeps moving forward."

"Was he a good friend?"

"The best."

Her hand patted him on the back and Eira slowly drew away. "I hope he won't prove himself to be like other nobles. Numbers are always on the bottom of the totem pole and nobles don't associate themselves with us." She paused and kicked a small rock. "We're dirty to them. They grow up looking down on us."

Would Lelouch and Nunnally no longer care for him? He wasn't useful to them. And Lelouch was always so smart... Lelouch didn't need him. His shoulders drew in and he hugged himself. "He is my best friend."

She sighed and pulled out her wallet, passing him a couple crumpled banknotes. "You're a good kid. The only way to survive as a Number is by becoming an Honorary Britannian. Save that money. A couple pounds should be enough to bribe your way in, despite your heritage. At least you can marry some commoner this way and become a full citizen. Stay alive kid... and go back to bed. Technically curfew is still in effect."

Eira put her helmet back on and stood up. Suzaku watched her go, never looking back. There were good people, kind people, in Britannia, in the army. His fingers curled around the banknotes, squeezing them tightly. Eira believed in him. It was enough. Someday, he would find a way to pay her back for her kindness. For now, he had a home to return to and a future to consider. Stuffing the banknotes in his pocket, Suzaku began the frigid walk back to the broken apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
Sorry for not posting last week and no worldbuilding notes this time. Not sure if people actually want them? Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)


	7. Hestia, Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative Title: Home You Shall Not Return

_ The Viceroy acts as an extension of the Emperor’s will and has the ultimate authority over the Area they govern. He has the power to grant peerage through land grants in the Area and is the ultimate legal authority over the land. Only the Emperor himself may recall or overrule the Viceroy. A Knight of the Round may force aWrite of Subsisto which grants a two month relief as the Emperor deliberates whether the ruling is in alignment with his own desires. _

_ —Duties of the Viceroy _

* * *

**Ashford Labs, Location Classified**

Reuben entered his office, barely noticing the stack of boxes in the corner filled with paperwork. He was tired. The flight back to Britannia had been exhausting and sleep continued to elude him. His brief moments of rest interrupted with the terrifying image of a young child running towards a knightmare. Blood splattered as the slash harken drove into her body. An explosion of light. Sir Oster impaled on a tree, dead, but blood continuing to flow. Knightmares torn to shred and the brief scream of pain over the radio as the mine activated. He was done. War had never been his thing, but he hadn't imagined such destruction.

He slowly lowered himself into his leather chair. Grimacing, he looked at the pile of papers Sarah had left on his desk for him to sign. Soon he would be called back to Tokyo to assist in the rebuilding and turning it into a proper productive Britannian city. None of his land holdings were as large, or as populous. It would be a lot of work. 

The numerous numbers on the quarterly report from the Hammond region danced. Grabbing a spare piece of paper, he began to jot down notes. Before he returned to Tokyo, he had to make sure all of his estates were in order. His assistant, Sarah, could only do so much, and having disinherited his son, he had no family to shove the work onto. For the foreseeable future, he would be swamped in work. His enemies had surely planned it this way.

The door banged open and Reuben's head shot up in surprise. His granddaughter, Milly, stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. "Grandpa!"

Pushing the paperwork aside, he stood up and embraced his granddaughter, twirling her around. "Milly. It's wonderful to see you. You've grown."

She laughed and stepped back to smooth out the wrinkles in her modest blue dress. Her eyes beamed up at him. "Just you wait Grandpa, I'm going to be taller than you!" She looked away and grumbled, "And Lelouch."

Chuckling, he rested a hand on her shoulder. "And how are our two royal guests?"

The annoyed expression vanished and she bounced forward. "Nunnally is great. She's like a little sister. You have to see the clay sculptures we made. Nunnally is really good. It so unfair. Mine look like a twisted eldritch abomination."

"Well I would love something from my incredible granddaughter to show in my office."

Artworks from around the world decorated his walls and rested in his bookshelf among exquisite works of literature. An amusing painting of distorted cubes hung by the door, where he could always see it. It was nothing that a sensible noble would own, in fact, a commoner painted it, but he loved it all the more for it. His private office in the labs remained his favorite as the public office was decorated with Britannian art. It was truly a shame that other nobles found such appreciation to be eccentric or disdainful. 

Milly leaned down to inspect a glass blown vase from Venice and peered at it appreciatively. Blue and red mixed in beautiful swirls and golden flowers adorned the rim. It had been a gift from a fellow researcher in Italy. Milly looked back at him. "Did you bring anything back from Japan?"

"Area 11," he replied reflexively. In his mind he saw Kagoshima burning and the ash twirling through the air. "I'm afraid not Milly."

"Oh." Milly frowned. "I thought it would have cheered up Lelouch and Nunnally. They really seem to like Ja—Area 11. They made a friend there: Suzaku. He sounds like a lot of fun."

He turned away, unable to face his granddaughter. Suzaku was a Japanese name... now an Eleven. He had not only killed soldiers in a one side slaughter, but the civilians as well... and the children. Was Suzaku among them? His hand trembled as he straightened his pile of papers in order to do something. The smell of the dead was overpowering. He had saved lives hadn't he? He had protected Britannia.

"Grandpa? Are you ok?" Milly broke through his thoughts as she gently tugged on his sleeves and his hand stilled. He wasn’t there and he relished the warmth of her hands grounding him in reality.

Still feeling shaken, he slowly lowered himself into his leather office chair. "Just lost in thoughts Milly."

"Oh." She tilted her head and her blond hair, the same shade as his late wife Rosalind, cascaded onto his desk. "You looked really sad there. Did something happen? Sometimes Nunnally does that as well. Staring off and getting really sad."

Forcing a smile onto his face, he ignored the darkness that threatened to overtake him. "What do you want for dinner Milly? We can have a special meal since I just came back. A celebration." A celebration instead of a funeral. 

She took a while to think as he pulled out the quarterly report and tried to focus on the numbers. "Swan ice cream?

That was a desert. But what did he expect from an eleven year old. He also had to plan her birthday party before he returned to Tokyo. Making a quick note, he looked back at her. "I'll ask the chef."

She bit her lip and looked away again. Bashfully, she asked, "Can I go to school?"

He lay down the fountain pen, acknowledging that he wouldn't get any work done for now. "Are your tutors unsatisfactory?"

"Well no... but I want to make some friends. Real friends, not just people you are polite to."

He sighed. Perhaps it was his fault as Milly constantly bounced between her father, Monty, who would spend a few eager weeks with her and then discard her, and himself. But while she was happier with Reuben and always expressed great joy at being allowed to stay with her grandfather, the security meant that they rarely attended parties. Parties were something Milly adored and where most of the youth met each other.

"If you want to enroll in the Imperial Academy, I can make that happen. I must warn you that they are rather focused on the military and science."

"No, I want to go somewhere normal. Nunnally told me about it. Apparently they have schools in Japan for everyone. They didn't get to go because of security, but Suzaku said it was a lot of fun. And you can hold competitions and parties. And they are just for the students. So everyone is nice to each other."

Everything was spiraling back to Japan. It was impossible to escape. "Unless you want to go to a foreign school, I don't know anywhere in Britannia like that."

"Where did Empress Marianne go? She was a commoner, so where do they go to school?"

He smiled at his granddaughter gently. She was incredibly sheltered, but then, the education of commoners wasn't something that would come up with her tutors. "A few retired folks volunteered in Marianne's village ran the local parish school. Her cousin, Nunnally tutored some of the older students who were interested in science. Nunnally was self taught."

"But I thought most commoners can't afford tutors." Milly looked terribly confused.

"The Imperial Academy is only open to those of Noble blood or knights and their children. And it is rather expensive. Commoners either are taught by volunteers, apprenticeships, internships, or join the military."

Reuben personally compensated the community volunteers when they directed his attention to a particularly bright student. Marianne's cousin had been a genius and it still rankled him how she never had the chance to apply her mind. It was pure chance they met and he had managed to sponsor her. Brilliant minds could be found anywhere, not just in noble blood lines.

Milly narrowed her eyes and stomped. "But that isn't fair!"

He might wish for there to be a public education system, but that wasn't within his power. A school had been an old dream of his before his wife died and he realized that Britannia did not want to change. He would need the favor of the Area's Viceroy to even consider such a thing. And none of the current Viceroys saw any worth in the commoners.

"There isn't anything I can do Milly. Even if I personally started a school, it would surely be shut down by the Viceroy or by one of the Margraves."

"Aren't you a Margrave now?"

Reuben blinked. He was going to govern Tokyo, the only city standing close to Mount Fuji with the world's largest sakuradite mine. "I guess I am Milly. A school huh? I guess I could push forward a school as an experiment. It will still depend on the Viceroy. It wouldn't do to make an enemy out of them just yet by forcing their hand."

Milly smiled again and leaned across his desk. "Well Prince Clovis is going to be the Viceroy. And he likes you!" She danced away. "I'm going to school!"

"It will take some time," he cautioned. Now was the time to finally fulfill the dream that he had forgotten. And maybe, just maybe, he could finally do something good. The knightmare... it was his darling child, but part of him felt that it was a mistake. Kagoshima had burned. Everything had burned and he had enabled it.

A small polite knock on the door and Lelouch with dark circles underneath his eyes stepped inside with a short bow and turned to Milly. "Nunnally is wondering where you are."

"Oh." She raised her hand to cover her mouth. "I'm so sorry Lulu!" Milly rushed over to Reuben and gave him a tight hug. "Sorry Grandpa, but I promised to help Nunnally with the kilning." 

"No problem. Go ahead. We can talk after dinner," he assured her.

Milly laughed and scurried past Lelouch who rolled his eyes. The door shut behind her, leaving Reuben alone with Lelouch. He gestured for the young prince to sit down in one of the armchairs. "I hope you are settling in well Lelouch."

Lelouch ignored him, the violet eyes hard and cold. "Thank you for accommodating us."

Did the prince blame him for his part in producing the knightmare frame? "I assume there is something you wish to speak to me about."

Lelouch nodded and straightened. "I have... a favor to ask."

A favor? Reuben would always help Marianne, even if lately, she seemed to be drifting further and further from the sweet fourteen year old child she had been. "I'm always willing to help you and your mother."

Lelouch scowled and clenched his fists. "Not her. For Nunnally. We... We enjoyed Japan and Nunnally deserves to be happy. She won't be in the Imperial Courts. Blindness is a weakness."

Reuben leaned back and wondered if Lelouch also couldn't sleep. Lelouch was just a child and he couldn't imagine what it was like to be stuck in a war zone. Marianne had difficulty retrieving them from what Reuben heard. "I guess Milly's new found obsession regarding school is thanks to you." 

The boy looked up and Reuben held his gaze.

"Please don't manipulate my granddaughter like that Lelouch. But if you wish to go to school, I'll of course support you. And even if you aren't on good terms with your mother currently, I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

Lelouch clenched his fists again at the mention of his mother. "Nunnally won't go as royalty. When we were in Japan... we were normal."

Court life was always unrelenting, part of the reason why he had tried to distant himself for as long as he could. But despite playing the part of an eccentric genius, he was being drawn into the political games. Marianne's own fingers were meddling with good intentions. He too wanted to go back to the good old days where it was just Rosalind, Marianne, and her wonderfully brilliant cousin, Nunnally. But life didn't always go as he intended.

"It will take me some time to set up the school. I will already be heavily involved in rebuilding Tokyo. Your sister and yourself cannot hide forever in these labs. I know you want your anonymity, but it just isn't possible. You can of course attend as royalty when the school is finally built."

Lelouch stepped forward, his eyes narrowed. "I don't want anything to do with her or the Emperor."

Reuben stilled. "What happened in Japan Lelouch?"

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past, but you could say I was an optimistic fool. I refuse to go back to Pendragon."

"Lelouch!" He stared at the young prince imploringly. "I don't know what you're going through, but please reconsider. You cannot just disown yourself. The Emperor will never accept that."

Lelouch straightened and Reuben could almost see the Emperor before him instead of a young child with a title that would rule his destiny forever. "I will stand on my own two feet. I ask you to please give me the opportunity to work on your estate. I will support Nunnally myself."

"Lelouch... There is no need."

"I don't need his money. I don't need them. They don't care about Nunnally or myself or anyone but their stupid Empire." 

Reuben stayed silent as he watched Lelouch suddenly deflate as if the gravity of his words suddenly struck him. Reuben knew that Marianne loved the two of them dearly. Before Marianne, he assumed that the Emperor was incapable of love, but whatever affection the Emperor had for Marianne, didn't have to extend to her children. 

Grumbling, he pinched his nose. His decision would not deter Lelouch from the path he had chosen. The only thing Reuben could do was wait at the side and be ready to catch the youth when he fell. He just had to stay close enough.

Reuben smiled sadly. "I will help you Lelouch. I doubt the Emperor will allow you to stay and work as a commoner on my estate. I hope you are aware." 

Lelouch relaxed and Reuben could see the faint glimmer of relief in his eyes. "The Emperor won't stop me if I join the military."

"You need to be fourteen to enlist. The Emperor isn't going to allow you to sit in obscurity for three years." And Reuben didn't want Lelouch to join the military. He feared that whatever remained of the kind and hopeful heart from before the assassination would be permanently washed away.

"I'm enlisting in January," said Lelouch.

"You'll only be twelve." 

"Nobody is going to check a lowly commoner's claim about his age."

Marianne was going to be pissed, but Lelouch would move forward regardless. The only thing Reuben could do was guide Lelouch and try to protect him from himself. "I'll make sure you have paperwork to cover your tracks regardless in return, you can aid me in accounting."

Lelouch glanced at the stack of paperwork warily, before gazing at him with wide eyes. "You aren't going to stop me?"

"Kid, I watched over you when you were a toddler. If I try and stop you, you'll just find another way. You already had another plan. At least this way, I know where you are." Walking over to Lelouch, he pulled him into a hug. "Of course, you can still back out of this. Being a commoner won't be easy. And joining the military... I still think you're too young and the Emperor... I cannot do anything if he tries to stop you."

Lelouch accepted the hug and nodded. "I'm going to do this. It's the only way we can ever be free."

Reuben pulled the boy closer. Normally, it wouldn't be proper. But Lelouch didn't protest and instead seemed to relax. He was only eleven and there was only so much a child could take... especially if he didn't feel like he could trust his own family anymore. Hopefully, Marianne could repair the bond of trust she inadvertently broke, but until then, Reuben would protect her children.

"You'll need a few more muscles Lelouch if you are going to survive."

Lelouch chuckled weakly and buried his head in Reuben's coat. They were going to be alright.

* * *

**Tokyo, Japan**

Tohdoh watched the execution on the television, unable to tear his eyes away. He had to see the consequences of his actions. Saito turned away as the shots were fired and the young man fell to the ground, dead. Tohdoh could hear Kudo in the bathroom, retching into the toilet. Sayako stood impassively by his side, her fists clenching. Tohdoh turned the television off as the Britannian newscaster turned to other matters.

Saito slouched in the corner of the room and absently inspected his boots. "We are going to stop this, aren't we sir?"

Kudo, returning from the bathroom, angrily punched the wall. "What can we do? It's just four of us. And an entire army! And even if we somehow rescue the hostages... What's stopping Britannia from just taking anyone off the street."

Tohdoh nodded. It was a problem. They could of course turn themselves in and receive Marianne's mercy. If they were lucky, she would honor her word and let the rest of their people go. It was too much of a risk... especially considering what Tohdoh knew. Lieutenant Iki had hopefully arrived in Narita, but Tohdoh knew where they were. If he got caught, everything would be compromised.

Surprising him, Sayoko spoke up. "This is my fault."

"Why do you say that?" asked Tohdoh.

She knelt down on the floor and shook her head. "My apologies, I infiltrated the Britannian base when they left to confront your troops. I had hoped to assassinate their commander... but she wasn't there."

Tohdoh closed his eyes, clenched his fists, and took a deep breath as he began to count backwards from twenty. He would not snap at her. It would be counterproductive. Without her interference, his plan would have worked. But instead, the Britannian forces were on high alert and Marianne was out for blood. Marianne had tried to kill Suzaku. Had killed Noriko. Tohdoh despised her, but attempting to kill her was foolish. Had Sayoko succeeded, Britannian would have burnt Tokyo to the ground without hesitation. They already proved themselves capable at Kagoshima. Still not trusting himself to speak, he counted backwards by threes from one hundred.

"It is fortunate that you didn't kill her," he finally replied.

Kudo growled. "How the hell is that true! If that bitch were dead, then we wouldn't be in this mess! We could try again. We'll succeed this time and show those Brits that we aren't to be underestimated."

Shaking his head, Saitio replied morosely, "It isn't going to be easy this time around. The Brits are already trigger happy. We would never make it into the base, let alone anywhere near Marianne."

"Then we take her out at the executions. She was there for the first one and in that wheelchair, she can't move fast." Kudo paced back and forth like a wild animal eager for blood.

Sayoko's soft voice cut between the two young privates. "The execution area is too obvious. They will have agents there to apprehend anyone foolish enough to try anything."

Kudo wasn't deterred. "We will just be smarter. There has to be a way to take her down. I'm not going to let people suffer for my mistake."

"And what do you think I feel?" Sayoko hissed back, "I failed my mission. If I succeeded, this wouldn't be happening."

Having enough of the squabbling, Tohdoh stood up and three pairs of eyes latched onto him. "We cannot assassinate Marianne."

Three voices shouted loudly, questioning him.

He raised his hand, silencing them. "Even though she is an Empress, killing her will just lead to someone replacing her who will seek revenge. Britannia holds all the cards. Death will not end these executions. We have to force Marianne to call them off herself or this pointless bloodshed will continue."

Saito looked up from his corner. "You aren't suggesting we turn ourselves in?"

"No." Tohdoh glanced out the window. "We cannot be caught. I don't even know if our capture would stop the executions, not when the Japanese will turn on each other to save themselves and their loved ones."

"Then what do you suggest sir?" asked Saito. 

Three pairs of eyes stared at him imploringly. He had performed a minor miracle and now he was expected to perform another one. Tohdoh didn't allow them to see his uncertainty. He would have to be strong in mind and spirit to protect his people. He did not know Marianne, but she was surely an intelligent opponent. She had already proved herself in their little skirmish in Saitama. 

He wondered what Lelouch would do. The young child always thought out of the box and if Tohdoh wanted to succeed, he would have to as well. Marianne would probably be like her son, although she already proved herself lacking one thing, he knew Lelouch possessed: a heart.

If he wanted to stop Marianne, he had to give her something to fear. It had to be something that wasn't easy to defeat. It couldn't be traced back to his people because Marianne would annihilate them. No, Tohdoh needed to construct a different type of threat. What did Marianne fear? Lelouch and Nunnally were out of the country. According to the gossip rags, she got along splendidly with the Emperor. 

Tohdoh walked over to the window and he stared at the knightmare roll down the street and a young Japanese couple cowering in the shadows. Someone had attempted to assassinate Marianne, that was why Lelouch and Nunnally were sent to Japan for their safety. Perhaps Marianne was cold enough to use her children as political bargaining chips, but she acted cautiously. Marianne would only have risked her children if the threat at home was great enough to garner such a response. 

"Sayoko," he said and she walked up behind him, her head bowed respectfully. "When you were searching for Marianne, did you perhaps enter her room?"

"Yes, but only her assistant was there. I disposed of her after she refused to tell me where Marianne was."

A small shiver ran down his spine, but Tohdoh steeled himself. He wasn't thrilled with assassinations, but he would use every tool at his disposal. "Do you remember any personal items in her room? Any files either?"

Sayoko pressed her finger against her chin thoughtfully. "She had a few photos of two children. In her desk drawer, she kept a small finger painting and she had a collection of various swords in a chest under the bed. Besides those items, she didn't have anything personal. There were a few personnel files on her desk."

Nodding, he considered the gamble he was contemplating. They only had one chance to get this right. "Who were they?"

Sayoko's curious gaze burned into him. She held up a finger. "Reuben Ashford, he is to become the Margrave of Tokyo. The Shinozaki clan has limited information on him despite being a high ranking noble. He rarely involved himself in Britannian politics." Extending another finger, Sayoko continued. "Midian Siebenberg. According to his file he is an accomplished soldier and baron. His family has no power in Britannian politics. Lastly," she raised the third finger, "Frederick Oberstein. He is a Margrave in Area 3 and rich. The clan suspects him of being behind numerous assassinations. He controls numerous mines and factories and also is responsible for manufacturing many of the Empire's weapons."

"Do we know anything of this Ashford character?"

Sayoko shook her head. Tohdoh pursed his lips, that was unfortunate. He didn't know why those three files were on Marianne's desk. But surely she disliked one of them or suspected them of foul play. But which one? A Margrave was powerful enough to orchestrate an assassination and Oberstein had a history. But pinning the attempted assassination of Marianne on him, might be difficult. Ashford was reclusive and wielded less power, but how did a political outsider earn governorship of the Tokyo area? Tohdoh was missing something.... which left Siebenberg. 

"Saito and Kudo," he said as he turned around and watched with satisfaction as they snapped to attention. "I need you to find out everything you can about Siebenberg."

"Sir? What is the plan?" Kudo asked.

Tohdoh allowed himself to smile. "We can't defeat Britannia. We need to give Marianne a bigger fish to catch. and Siebenberg, may just be the scapegoat we need. But I want to make sure."

Kudo glanced at the TV and frowned. "We don't have that much time sir. The execution—"

"No civilian is going to die tonight."

Kudo's eyes widened, "How can you say that? Do you have a plan?"

Shaking his head, Tohdoh stared at his young subordinate in the eyes. "We don't need to. This was the second execution. Someone will be desperate enough to sell out their people to stop the executions. And then we will see if Marianne keeps her word. I believe she will, for our people will tear themselves apart to save their loved ones."

"I don't believe that." Kudo stepped back, shaking. "Why would they turn on each other? Help the enemy?"

"If it was my son or my wife standing before the firing squad... I don't know what I would do." He clenched his fists. "No, that is a lie. I would save them even if that meant my own death. And just like me, others will do the same. They will sell out their neighbor who cursed at Britannians the other day. They'll accuse their old colleagues out of jealousy. And Marianne will reward the traitors with food and luxuries while the rest of our people starve. And then we will just be Numbers."

Kudo growled, "We're Japanese. There is no way that—"

"The Kyoto House already sold out," interjected Sayoko. 

Tohdoh turned to her, his eyebrows raised as he thought of the conceited plutocrats. He would never have imagined them bowing their heads. "It has already begun. Go Kudo and Saitio. The sooner we act, the sooner we can save our people from this trap."

He turned to Sayoko and listened to the footsteps fading away and the door slamming shut. Sayoko bowed her head to him, "And how may I be of service?"

"Find out everything you can about Ashford. I want to know what kind of man he is... And if we need to arrange an accident."

Tohdoh turned around and pulled out his wedding photo with Nagisa. He missed her. Perhaps he could ask Sayoko to find them? He looked up, but she was already gone. he hadn't heard her leave. It was probably for the best if he didn't know where Nagisa and Ko were. They were safer that way should Tohdoh be captured. Japan's resistance would fall, but his family could at least live on.

Pulling out a lighter, he raised the flickering flame to the edge. It was the only memento that he had been able to hang onto. For their safety, he would let it go. He raised the lighter again and brought it closer to the edge. He shut it off.

"Ridiculous," he murmured to himself. He had covered up a murder and was considering ordering an assassination, but he quailed at the thought of destroying a picture. Sighing, he tucked the picture away and headed out to do his own reconnaissance.

* * *

**Britannian Military Base, Tokyo, Area 11**

Marianne rubbed her eyes tiredly as she looked at the list of casualties. If Lord Newton hadn't died in the Battle of Narita, she would have had him stripped of his title for sheer incompetence. Britannia had lost eighteen knightmares and another twenty two were in desperate need of repairs. Worst of all, they had nothing to show for it. Britannia ad suffered its first devastating defeat and the enemy had vanished in the Narita mountains. She rubbed her eyes again, before glancing at the other report on her desk sourly.

Bismark was coming. Apparently Charles was worried about her safety although he had at least the common sense to not pull her away from the fighting. The fighting was supposed to be over, but Britannia had never needed to worry about chasing cockroaches armed with knives before. People were supposed to roll over and beg for mercy, not needlessly shed blood. It was illogical.

Setting her paperwork aside, Marianne rolled back from the desk and pulled out her phone, dialing Reuben's familiar number.

A few rings later, he picked up and grumbled, "Marianne? You know it's past midnight for me?"

"Well you are awake Reuben."

He made a weird sound between a groan and a yawn. "I have a literal mountain of paperwork to get through. My office looks like a blizzard. So please, unless you have a way for all the paperwork to disappear, allow me to finish up and go to bed."

Marrianne pushed away the tremor of guilt. Reuben definitely sounded stressed. "How are the kids? Are they settling in well?"

"Nunnally seems to be doing alright although she is having frequent nightmares... and Lelouch. Well I checked the security footage, he is barely sleeping. They may be safe, but... What happened Marianne?"

Her heart plummeted. She should be there with them and comforting them. This was all her fault. "It's the Elevens' fault."

"Marianne." His voice was stern and suddenly Marianne felt like a teenager who had been a little too reckless in the Ganymede. Reuben sounded incredibly disappointed and her heart fluttered in shame. "That isn't going to help."

Lowering her head, she said, "Lelouch fled the Kururugi home with Nunnally and the Prime Minister's son. Had they stayed, the unspeakables would have kept them safe. That was their job, but Lelouch... He set traps and decoys. Lelouch was in Sagamihara."

"Sagamihara?"

Her eyes closed and she knew that Reuben was going to yell at her. "Sagamihara. The army flattened the area. They were walking among the piles of the dead."

He didn't yell. Instead his voice became softer. "Marianne. Did you kill the boy? Suzaku?"

That had been his name. The boy who had stolen her children from her and manipulated them. She growled into her phone. "No. He managed to escape."

Reuben inhaled sharply and the noise grated against the speaker. She just knew that he was dissapointed in her. "Marianne. He was friends with them both. Nunnally cries his name in her sleep. If you ever want your children to talk to you again, you cannot kill him. It will break them."

She felt so incredibly angry, but for her children she would push it aside. "So I should just capture him and let him work for them... So they can be with their  _ friend? _ "

Reuben didn't answer.

Her cheeks warmed and she massaged her forehead. No. Lelouch would take that wrongly. A noble taking a commoner with no skill to keep them close? It screamed of a mistress and Lelouch would understand the connotation. She hissed in disbelief, "You just want me to let him be?"

"Yes." He paused slightly and cut over her irritated sigh. "He is just a child. What harm can he do? In a few years, if may even become a productive citizen of the Empire to honor that friendship."

"No harm?" she spluttered. "He is the son of the Prime Minister! He is basically a symbol for a rebellion to rally around. Not to mention a Number."

"Marianne. You're a commoner who became an Empress. It seems rather pointless to value his worth based on being a citizen of a conquered nation. Weren't you the one who proposed that Prince Clovis marry a French woman to appease the E.U? Lelouch never had any friends before, despite your efforts Marianne. He has a good head. Trust his judgment."

Leaning back, she stared at the ceiling. Everything was out of her control. It hurt to admit, but she had driven her children away. She wasn't sure if it was a particular action or simply because she was absent from their life for so long. It didn't matter. Her voice cracked slightly. "They don't wish to speak to me?"

Sounding incredibly exhausted, Reuben said, "Nunnally will probably come around if you talk to her... but Lelouch, he won't. He has always been stubborn. It's going to take a lot more work for him to open up to you... or anyone for that matter."

Yes. Lelouch had always been a stubborn child. He had even refused to crawl, instead scooting around on his bottom until he could finally master the art of walking. She smiled softly at the memory. V.V. had robbed her son of his youthful smile. She wanted to see Lelouch smile again. "What is Lelouch planning?"

"You know your son too well Marianne. He said he would stand on his own two feet." Marianne suddenly felt the strong urge to punch Charles. "He is planning on enlisting in January."

"Absolutely not!" This was Charles's fault. She knew it. She was going to strangle him when she returned to Britannia. "He is just twelve."

Reuben's silence was telling and Marianne rubbed her eyes again. She wanted to return home to her precious two angels.

"I can't stop him, can I?" Lelouch would hatch one of his idiotic schemes and without her protection, Marianne had no doubt that Lelouch and Nunnally would be captured and used as bargaining chips by ambitious nobles. It still felt too rash."I will think about, but Reuben, please protect him and Nunnally."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
\- I've thrown all of Code Geass's alternate history from before the Seven Years' War out of the windows, as a result, King George III won against Washington. Interestingly, he has fifteen children, one of them just happens to be named Elizabeth. She is also alleged to have an affair with the son of King George's paige. Since my Britannian Empire is founded by Elizabeth III, I'm using the historical Elizabeth and have her be the only one to escape Napoleon.  
\- There are plenty of alternate histories that discuss America losing the revolutions, but I haven't found any that focused on the religious repercussions within the states. I feel like religion would change, but am no expert and so am going to keep religion on the backseat. The anime had religious tones at times, so religion must still exist, right? My attempt at research ended up with me learning how Napoleon pushed reforms through to help the Jewish people despite public backlash. Fascinating. But not exactly what I'm looking for, but it is being filed under reasons why Napoleon was assassinated in this universe.  
\- Funny thing you don't realize when writing a Code Geass fic, is how language would evolve differently. "Ok" should not exist in Britannia. Oops... Then there are accents, and I loathe writing accents, so I'll make note of a character having an accent, but I'm going to try to distinguish class divides more by vocabulary and grammar distinctions.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Because my chapter was late again, I owe everyone two chapters. I'm keeping track, so that I may deliver a surprise makeup update in the upcoming months. The next chapter is complete already and just awaiting editing so it should be on time.
> 
> The story is nearing a 100 follows on FFN, and I would love to celebrate the occasion. I'm thinking of a special update or a separately posted one-shot. Any preference?


	8. Red Phosphorous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Words Draw Blood

_ When I think about it, the Ganymede was my greatest joy and worst gift to humanity. My brain child has slaughtered millions and I feel every one of those deaths on my soul. I sought peace and instead brought more bloodshed. It was foolish to trust that Charles would not see the destructive implications of my brainchild. He wasn't even the Emperor then, but Marianne convinced me. _

_ Perhaps all innovations lead to death. But the knightmare blindsided the world and led to a one sided slaughter because no one expected it. The fact is that a knightmare frame should be impossible. I am sure that there were other children who envisioned robot fights in their youth, but I was the one to play with a piece of sakuradite and see not only the potential to harvest its energy, but also understand that it can absorb energy. Some say it seems simple once the solution is laid out in front of you. It isn't. Sure, the Europeans and Chinese copied my designs to create their own variations on the knightmare, but very few understand the science involved. That is why there are only two scientists of our time who actually brought innovations to the field. The fact that they both went to school together is beyond imagination. Although I wonder if they would have succeeded without each other in those early days. _

_ —Letter from Reuben Ashford _

* * *

**Sapporo, Area 11**

Lieutenant Colonel Cornelia smiled as she piloted her knightmare and decimated the Japanese troops. After weeks of casualties on both sides and aimless fighting, they were finally making progress. A once proud and beautiful forest was now a waste land as the Britannian military alternated between burning the forest and manually felling the trees to flush out General Katase’s troops.

A small enemy tank rolled over the felled trees, its turret swiveling and seeking a target. A simple strike from her slash harken permanently diabled it. She moved forward, past the fallen troops bleeding out onto the ground. Their forces were pitifully easy to destroy, yet they kept on coming like lambs to the slaughter. Cornelia knew that General Katase was waiting to spring a trap. She was too alluring of a bait to resist, but she would show him. She would stand victorious over his army and bring the man's head to her father. A befitting end.

Cornelia grinned and cut through the forest as armored tanks followed behind her and the ground troops searched for survivors to interrogate. If General Katase didn't come out soon, she was going to be incredibly disappointed. What type of man did not partake in the glory of war? He would come because honor demanded it. And then, she would prove herself as his superior.

"Do you think he will ask for a duel Lord Gottwald? It would be honorable to humor him, wouldn't it?" she asked over the comms.

Lord Gottwald laughed and tore a tree out of the ground to clear the path forward. "He has the right to as an enemy commander and you should accept your highness."

"Oh?"

"Didn't you hear? Knightmares are acceptable in duels now." Laughing, he lunged forward at the enemy troops firing at them from behind the trees. The metal leg of the Glasgow tore through the trees and they quickly scattered, only to be killed by Sir Guilford’s expert marksmanship.

Killing General Katase with her knightmare would be satisfying. But would it be overkill? He hadn't earned her respect and killing him with her knightmare would imply he had some worth. Cornelia pursed her lips. Everything was silent. Where was he?

She opened a line to the ground troops. "Lord Arnold, how are the prisoners?"

Cornelia could hear people screaming in the background as he answered, sounding displeased. "We have begun interrogations your highness. Most of these soldiers were just cannon fodder." 

General Katase was supposed to come. He was a prideful man and she was fighting on the front lines. Didn't he desire to make Britannia pay? "And of Katase?"

"To their knowledge, he never left the base."

Growling, she tore through the trees ahead. If he wasn't going to challenge her, she was going to find him and drag him out of his hole herself. Dust rose in the air as she dropped another tree. Bullets pinged against her knightmare, alerting her to the enemy forces. If Katase didn't have honor, then there was no reason to keep prisoners anymore. She swung at them with the intention to kill.

"Princess Cornelia! You need to fall back!" shouted Sir Guilford.

"Lord Esazat is being overrun Princess Cornelia! The enemy is flanking us!" shouted Lord Gottwald. "Get out of there. It is a trap!"

The dust began to thin and something flashed within the cloud. Metal. Trap. Her hand jerked backwards as she tried to leap away. The ground rumbled beneath her. The legs of the knightmares slipped and buckled. She could feel her stomach rising. The knightmare groaned as she pushed the controls to save herself. She was falling. 

A loud squeal like a calf's last moments before the butcher's knife descended. Then a pop that vibrated through the entire knightmare. Her hand burned as the vibrations ran up her arm.

The leg had broken off.

She was going to die. 

A failure. She couldn't die. The Knightmare was broken. 

There was nothing she could do despite her burning desire to rain down vengeance. Maybe, if she was lucky, she would survive the landing and the subsequent missile. 

Maybe. 

Katase had won... and she had failed.

Her eyes locked on the flash of metal as the dust settled to once again reveal the soldier with the missile launcher. She could imagine him smiling as he took aim. At this range he would die as well. 

He fired. 

She hadn't said goodbye to Princess Euphemia.

A large force struck her knightmare and pushed her out of the way. The explosion blinded her and her ears rang as the knightmare fell limply to the ground. 

She was alive. 

Her eyes blinked as she tried to see. Her lips parted, but she couldn't muster the energy to make a sound. Her body trembled and her heart beat erratically in her chest. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Cornelia smiled. She was blind, helpless, and deaf on the battlefield. But she was alive. She hadn't lost yet.

Her eyes closed and she let her body succumb to sleep. She would win next time. 

* * *

**Tokyo, Japan**

Tohdoh tilted his head to the side as he tried to reconcile the unusual feeling of the breeze dancing on top of his scalp. His eyebrows burned and while Saito swore that the smell of bleach had faded, Tohdoh still felt the strong urge to sneeze. Tohdoh was now a bald man with blond eyebrows and wearing round large glasses. Upon inspection, he wouldn't pass as a Britannian, but no Britannian would connect him to his military profile. 

What would Nagisa think of his new appearance? He snorted and easily passed by a group of guards. In the corner of his right eye, he could see something flash forward: Sayoko. She was his backup if everything went wrong. Saito and Kudo insisted. 

Two soldiers passed by him. They were too relaxed to be on duty and Tohdoh slowed down, interested in any potential gossip as the talked among each other. The tall blond with part of his ear missing and sporting an angry frown, said, "You know that Eleven chic we caught last night going through our supplies? Heard that Lord Saxum is taking an interest in her."

The other soldier, older with white hair and a simple wedding ring, hissed, "Don't talk like that Jeffery. Nobody is going to stop Lord Saxum and you know what he does if people start talking behind his back." 

Jeffery stopped and Tohdoh flinched, but the soldier's eyes passed over him. "It still isn't right. I can't... She.... I cannot turn a blind eye."

The elder shook his head head, like an exasperated mother dealing with a foolish child.He grabbed Jeffery’s shoulder to force him to pay attention. "And who will support Lisa if you die protecting a Number? She can't work in the fields... not after what your Lord did."

Tohdoh grimaced as he was forced to continue walking to remain inconspicuous. He wanted to aid this mysterious Japanese infiltrator and insure her safety. She was one of his people and his mind could easily fill in what awaited her, but the mission was more important. How many sacrifices would he have to make to save Japan? Would there still be anything left of his heart when he was finally done? Angrily, he straightened his fingers and he forced himself to offer a calm salute as an enemy officer passed by him. There was no time for such thoughts. The woman had known what she was risking. One day her sacrifice would be worth it.

The enemy's eyes passed over him as if he wasn't there. They would regret being so dismissive of the Japaense. It would be their downfall.

A large group of soldiers, young and bald, laughed and he watched as one of them stumbled. In the midst of their camp, they felt almost human. None of them expected an attack or a simple Number to slip into their camp unnoticed. They felt all too normal and human to have committed such grotesque crimes. Tohdoh wanted to rip off their masks and reveal the monsters that lurked within these mens' bodies. 

He walked forward and gave a friendly salute. The mission came first. Revenge had no place in his heart if he wished to save Japan. He was just a tool. One willing to do anything to ensure that Nagisa, Ko, and Suzaku would have a better future.

He caught three quick flashes of light from a building to his right. Sayoko had spotted the target. Tohdoh let himself slow down and hunched his shoulders to seem as weak as possible. Lessons from his sensei burned within him, ordering him to straighten and pull back his shoulders, and use his diaphragm to breathe. He sent a silent apology to his sensei, before letting his body slump even further and stuffing his hands in the large pockets of his jacket. 

Lord Siebenberg rounded the corner and Tohdoh stumbled towards him, his face impassive. His right hand clenched the forged letter. The plan depended entirely on timing. His fingers drummed against the letter as he forced himself to walk forward. Kudo had to show up soon for this to work.

Tohdoh only had a few more steps before he would be forced to respond to Siebenbrug's presence to sell the act. 

A gunshot rang through the air and Siebenberg stopped to turn around. Yelling grew louder as Kudo charged down into the street, fleeing from his pursuers and holding a loaf of bread. Kudo looked like a desperate street rat with a ripped shirt tied around his head, his black hair unusually greasy, and covered in dirt from head to toe. Tohdoh smiled and stopped as he waited for Kudo to do his part.

Siebenberg sneered and opened his mouth. Kudo pushed into him leaving red and brown smears on the noble's pure white coat. 

Siebenberg fell to the ground and gaped at Kudo in shock. "You filth! How dare you desecrate my clothes. Arrest him!"

Kudo held out his middle and ring finger as he scurried off Siebenberg and past Tohdoh. The package had been delivered. Tohdoh's heart calmed.

A smoke bomb exploded on the ground. The wind quickly thinned the smoke and Tohdoh could see the hazy outlines of the soldiers as they looked for Kudo. The precious few seconds had been enough for Kudo to slip away. He would be safe in the sewers by now.

"Lord Siebenberg!" Tohdoh shouted and he stumbled towards the lord, waving his hands desperately and clutching the letter. "I'm so sorry my lord. Are you alright? Can I help you?"

The man stood up and sneered down at Tohdoh. "I definitely do not need your help."

"Of course my lord. I apologize. I overstepped my bounds, please forgive me. I have the information you asked for my lord."

The other soldiers paused and Tohdoh could feel their curious gazes burning into him. He knew they recognized his Japanese features and he watched warily as their hands moved to the firearms at their side.

"What are you talking about?" spat Siebenberg.

Tohdoh resisted the urge to grin and held out the envelope. "As you asked my lord. You said it was urgent. I'm sorry. I was supposed to give you this privately." He dropped to his knees and let his head touch the floor as he gave a Britannian bow. "I'm sorry my lord. I have failed you again. I accept whatever punishment you may give."

Siebenberg ripped the letter out of his hand. "Get out of my sight you cretin."

Standing up and letting his body sway as he attempted to maintain a bow. "Do you have another job you wish me to deliver to Shinozaki?"

Scowling, Siebenberg struck him across the cheek. His jewel adorned rings cut in his skin and Tohdoh could feel blood trickling down his cheek. "Arrest this man at once."

Soldiers grabbed Tohdoh's arms and yanked them behind his back. Tohdoh bit the inside of his cheek to suppress his smile. The muscle by his lip twitched dangerously as Siebenerg walked away, wiping at his clothes with a handkerchief and yelling at a young private to bring him some new clothes. The trap had been set and now he just had to escape custody.

A man in his mid-twenties with hair the color of cherry blossoms, walked towards Tohdoh. A small piece of black metal caught attached to the man's collar caught his attention as he saw the two stripes: Lance Corporal. His blue eyes bored into Tohdoh before he chuckled.

"I have never seen Lord Siebenberg that flustered." The Lance Corporal smiled and addressed his captors. "Let him go."

The cuffs fell away and Tohdoh massaged his wrists carefully. He was supposed to get arrested. "You're letting me go?"

"Ain't that what I said?" 

His mouth felt dry. "Why?"

"Because I gotta promotion waiting for me and pissing off Lord Siebenberg? Right before I leave his command... That feels wonderful. He's disgraced afta losing to Lord Ashford. I do recommend you get a new job afta humiliating him like that. I doubt he's gonna pay you anything."

"I wasn't trying to embarrass him! I was just doing as he asked." Tohdoh bowed his head. "And then I messed up."

The blue eyes observed him and they stared at him with suspicion. "Lords don't like it when their private laundry be aired. What’d he want?"

He bit the inside of his cheek again as he regarded his stroke of fortune. Siebenberg was evidently not well liked and a few hints would be all Tohdoh needed to spring the trap. "Just some info on the area and where the old subway lines are. Not important really. The Shinozaki get the more difficult assignments." He frowned. "I thought he would have another assignment for them. Maybe he is upset that they failed?"

The Lance Corporal shrugged. "Don't know. Sounds quite strange. Best be going along now. This ain't no place for Elevens."

Tohdoh nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he slowly began the walk back.

* * *

**Britannian Military Base, Tokyo, Area 11**

Marianne rolled her wheelchair into the dining hall and paused in the doorway. Bismark stood by her side and Marianne watched with satisfaction as the room suddenly fell silent. Her eyes scanned the room for Siebenberg and she could see him desperately trying to edge away, made harder by his bright blue coat. After his stunt with Reuben, Marianne had put an alert on all reports pertaining to Siebenburg. She wasn't going to let him attempt to harm her friend again. In the early afternoon, someone had filed a report saying Siebenberg was behaving suspiciously and it immediately landed on her desk. It was probably nothing, but she would relish drawing it out as long as possible.

"We need to talk Siebenberg," Marianne said with a gentle smile.

Understanding that he had no choice in the matter, Siebenberg walked forward and bowed before him. "Of course your highness."

Her grin grew wider. "Why don't you lead the way to your quarters then?"

He shuddered despite her polite tone and carefully edged around Bismarck. "Of course your highness. If you will?"

They entered the quarters and Marianne raised her eyebrows at the dirty outfit hanging from the wall and a young maid working industriously to clean the floors. "Do you normally track this much dirt into your rooms?"

Flushing, Siebenberg shook his head. "Of course not your highness. There was an incident with some thieving filth this afternoon."

Perhaps the same event that prompted the report. She gestured to Bismark. "Check the outfit."

Siebenberg stared at Bismark with wide eyes as he hurried to the wall. "Excuse me? What is the meaning of this?"

Tilting her head, she observed him, "I'm just following up on a report. It wouldn't do if our nobles collaborated with the enemy after all."

He turned even redder and she could see him gritting his teeth. It was amusing getting under his skin and the brief humiliation would hopefully prevent Siebenberg from plotting his revenge against Reuben. She owed him too much to not make an effort to nip a potential threat in the bud. 

"Is there a problem? After all, you have nothing to hide."

He grimaced again, but bowed respectfully. "Of course not, your highness."

Bismark straightened and passed a letter to her and a small bag of gold. "He also had a small pack of cigarettes and a bag of sweets."

Staring at the letter resting in her hands with Siebenberg's personal crest, he insisted, "That isn't mine. You... you planted it!"

The letter was probably embarrassing, but trying to pretend it wasn't his, when it had his personal wax seal, was foolish. Rolling her eyes, Marianne pressed her manicured nails against the seal and opened the letter. She pulled out the neatly folded paper, noting the expensive stationary. A small photo fluttered to the ground.

Bending down to pick it up, she froze. Her blood turned to ice and she carefully peeled the photo off the ground. Lelouch's laughing face stared at her. It was a recent photo. Not one of those photos floating around in the Imperial Court from before the assassination attempt. It was a threat to her son's anonymity. 

Sienberg shivered as she stared up at him. "Where did you get this photo?"

"I swear I don't know. That isn't mine."

Liar.

He dared to lie to her?

Marianne snapped to Bismark, "Search the room."

With trembling hands, she unfolded the letter and began to read the neat script. Assassination. Siebenberg was trying to hire assassins.

Bismark walked to her side with two others letter. The first, covered in dirt and written on cheap paper, showed the subway lines that run through Tokyo, specifically those that ran under the base. The second letter was already open. It was a mission report. 

"Bismark arrest Siebenberg for treason."

She wanted to kill him. He had tried to kill her and caused Agatha's death and the countless others who had the misfortune to guard her quarters. She only had to thank his stupidity that he didn't realize that she was with the troops in Saitama. He had been too close to success. Had he waited until the Battle of Narita, he might have succeeded.

Siebenberg struggled against Bismark's overwhelming strength futilely. "Please you don't understand. I didn't do anything wrong. I've never seen those letters in my life!"

"Did you truly think you could get away with this?"

"No! I'm innocent. I swear. I have done nothing wrong. I'm being framed. Please you've got to listen to me." Siebenberg was crying. 

Marianne sneered in disgust. "Bismark, throw him into a cell. No food or water. Maybe he will be more honest tomorrow."

Siebenberg suddenly broke free as he dislocated his shoulder and lunged for the letter opener. His hand curled around the weapon and Marianne saw his eyes lock onto her. She wouldn't be able to defend herself in her wheelchair. 

Siebenberg attempted to lunge forward, but Bismark easily stepped forward, gutting him. Marianne watched dispassionately as Siebenberg stumbled backwards, his face paling, and fell to the ground. He struggled to lift his head and his soft delicate hands curled around Bismark's sword. 

"I'll call a med team. Don't kill him Bismark. I need him to answer some questions for me."

Bismark nodded, but Siebenberg stared at her with wide open tearful eyes. "I'm innocent. Please, you don't understand."

"You're a poor liar. I wonder what the Emperor will do to you once I'm done. He really doesn't like it when scum like you try to assassinate royals."

The eyes widened and Marianne suddenly knew that she misspoke, as his hand tightened around the sword and pulled it out with a gritted cry of pain.

"Bismark stop him!"

Wielding the letter open, Siebenberg stabbed his wrists. They were too late. "Stop the bleeding. I need him alive."

His heart stopped by the time the med team arrived. As the med team attempted defibrillation again and again, without success, Marianne closed her eyes and silently swore. 

* * *

**Sapporo, Area 11**

Cornelia could hear people talking indistinguishably, but the bed was so soft and she just wanted to rest a little longer. If only everyone could be quiet and let sleep take her. It was nice and comfortable. Pulling the blanket closer, she rolled on her side, intent on ignoring the commotion. Someone else would deal with it, but for now she wanted to sleep.

Her side ached. Her leg burned. Why?

She had been in her knightmare and then... She had almost died. She was alive.

Forcefully pushing her tiredness aside, Cornelia peeled open her eyelids and stared at the ceiling. She was alive. She should call Euphemia. The doctor hadn't noticed her waking yet and she tried to will her muscles to obey. There were things she had to do and a coward to defeat. But first, Euphemia.

Nudging her stiff legs to the side of the bed, Cornelia propped herself up on her elbow and slowly pushed herself upright. Everything hurt, like a hundred bee stings all at once. How was she alive?

"Princess Cornelia! You mustn't move." The doctor ran up to her, holding a clipboard and his dark green hair frazzled. He had dark shadows under his eyes, all too prominent with his incredibly pale skin. Small specks of blood decorated the hem of his white coat. "Please, lay back down."

Cornelia grimaced, but didn't move. "When may I leave?"

"Leave?" He opened his mouth and stared at her flabbergasted. "You have a concussion your highness. You cannot leave. You will stay right here and won't move."

"There are things I must do." And a simple army doctor would not stop her.

The doctor narrowed his eyes. "You are not leaving this bed by order of Empress Marianne."

She blinked. She had failed Lady Marianne hadn't she? Cornelia thought that Lady Marianne wanted nothing to do with her, but her mentor was still looking out for her. Slowly, Cornelia settled back onto the bed. For Lady Marianne, she would stay her vengeance. A few more hours of rest wouldn't change anything. Lady Marianne still cared. She smiled.

The doctor shook his head and shone a small light in her eyes. "You're quite lucky your highness. Your right hand is slightly fractured. you won't be able to use it for the next six weeks. Otherwise, rest, and you will be good to go."

Her eyes wandered to her hand and the cast that she hadn't noticed. Oh. "How did I... survive?"

The doctor pulled back and passed her a small paper cup containing a small pill and a glass of water. Gesturing to the bed opposite of hers, "You have Lord Guilford to thank for that."

Her heart felt heavy as she looked at him and the IV bag besides him. Both of his legs were in splints. He had saved her at risk of his own life. "How is he?"

The doctor smiled sadly. "He will live, but I doubt that he will regain use of his left arm. The treatment is expensive and with how he wrecked the knightmare frame," the man shrugged, "I doubt his family has enough money to afford the treatment. He'll receive a nice severance package from the army, but it won't cover the cost of the knightmare."

Broke. The Guilford family had probably taken out loans to get their son a knightmare frame. A skilled pilot had a high return on investment, especially if Lord Guilford proved himself in the conquest of Japan. Instead, his family would be destitute with a crippled son. He had saved her life... Why? He had ruined himself and his family. They would probably lose their peerage.

"I will pay for his treatment." The words were out of her mouth before she had time to comprehend. But this was right? Slowly and more assured of herself, she turned to the doctor. "My stipend from my father and the military should be enough. I will support any treatment to allow him to regain the full use of his arm."

The harsh lines on the doctor's face softened. "Thank you your highness." 

She looked at him in confusion, he wasn't the one being treated.

"I don't like seeing my patients suffer when I know there is treatment. Too many would have ignored his sacrifice. So thank you."

The doctor bowed and left her staring at Lord Guilford. He didn't know her, yet he risked his life for her. He had to have known what would happen to his family if he died. But he had acted in a split second when the trap was sprung to save her. Why? 

True loyalty was a rare thing to find. With enough money or threats, nearly everyone could be convinced to betray their sovereign. Even one of her father’s wives had attempted to take his life. The Knight of Honor was so precious because they would never betray their lord or lady. 

Cornelia looked away as she remembered the constant terror from her childhood. One of her earliest memories was a maid knocking out her mother’s guard in an attempt to kidnap her and Schneizel. It was only one of father’s strange assassins that saved their lives.

Lord Gottwald walked through the door and stopped by her side, snapping Cornelia out of her chilling memories. A brush of mortality had made her reminiscent. He passed her a thick folder. "Commander. I'm glad that you are alright. What are your orders?"

Her mouth felt dry. "Lord Guilford saved me."

"He did." Lord Gottwald knelt on the ground. "I'm sorry your highness. I should have been closer. I failed to protect you."

"it was my mistake Lord Gottwald. There is nothing to forgive." She had been reckless and walked into the trap. Her eyes wandered again to Lord Guilford. "I will need to transfer money to pay him back for wrecked knightmare."

Euphemia's birthday gift would simply be less extravagant this year. She wanted to shower her younger sister in gifts, but Euphie would understand. 

Lord Gottwald nodded. "He saved your life. I will pay half the cost myself."

"Your father?"

He grimaced and looked away. "He has been slowly giving me more control of the estate. I doubt he will be pleased, but I swore myself to the royal family. To Lady Marianne. You were my commander and Lord Guilford saved your life. I will settle my debt with him, it is only fair."

Opening the folder, Cornelia scanned the casualties. Besides herself, they were inconsequential. She had taken the brunt of the enemy's fire. Looking up, she glanced at Lord Gottwald again. "Lady Marianne dismissed all of us. We failed her."

Lord Gottwald looked despondent. "I was a suspect. The Emperor himself questioned me. My father's politics are well known and the Purist Faction has always been outspoken against Lady Marianne." He straightened. "I will prove my loyalty. Lady Marianne entrusted us with destroying the last remnant of the Japanese army."

"That she did," she replied softly. Scanning the intelligence report, she considered what she could do from a hospital bed. "I will leave the troops to you Lord Gottwald. I will also need someone loyal and intelligent from infantry."

"It will be done your highness. I will not fail you."

Cornelia nodded. "Send an infiltration squad to retrieve Katase's head. There is no point in fighting honorably if he doesn't respond in kind. You will lead the knightmare corps as a distraction and then break towards the sea to force the Chinese and E.U. ships. If need be, the ships can disappear. After all, officially, their ships are helping Australia with wildfires." She paused and glanced at the number of prisoners. "The Elevens are worthless now. I doubt any of them will work peacefully in the mines. Dispose of them."

"Yes your highness!" Lord Gottwald saluted and Cornelia watched him walk away, before pulling out a sheet of paper and starting to craft a letter to Euphemia. It wouldn't do to worry her sister.

Three days later, Cornelia watched as Lord Gottwald presented Katase's head and packaged it to send to the Emperor. The conquest of Area 11 was finally complete.

* * *

**Britannian Military Base, Tokyo, Area 11**

Marianne stared at the picture of Lelouch and her stomach clenched. Who had collaborated with Siebenberg? Were they targeting Nunnally as well? Bismark stood at attention in the corner of the room, far enough to give her space, but close enough to deal with any threats. It irked her that Charles had been right to send Bismark. She had too many enemies. Her innocent children had enemies for the crime of being born. Lelouch was smiling in the picture and she wondered what the occasion had been. The background was too blurry to make out any details.

The phone rang as she waited for Reuben to pick up. Her fingers drummed against the desk. She had to make sure that her two angels were safe. Nobody was allowed to take them from her. Lelouch's plan was suddenly appealing. Had he foreseen the danger? He must have and Marianne had been too blind, too enamored with the relief of seeing her children again. The Imperial Court was no place for a child. 

Reuben finally picked up.

"Hello Reuben."

"What happened? Are you alright?" He always knew when something was wrong.

"I'm fine, but... Lelouch is in danger. Nunnally too. I hate it, but he is right. He'll be safest in the army. I will make sure his paperwork is airtight, but people outside of the military will need to know him as a commoner in case anyone goes digging. What name is he using?"

"I will keep them safe Marianne." Her hand relaxed marginally. She could always rely on him. "Nunnally picked their new last name. Lamperouge."

Lelouch wasn't too common of a name, but if he hadn't cast it aside, there was still a part of him that clung to her. She hadn't lost her son yet. She still had a chance to reconnect. If only she had the time to fly home and talk, but she had to negotiate with the French and give false platitudes of peace.

"And Nunnally? I don't know if she is a target, but she will need to be safe as well."

"I'm heading to Tokyo after Milly's birthday. I'm going to be setting up a school for commoners. Nunnally plans on attending and Milly is bouncing off the walls in excitement. She's been sketching out how the school should look like and all the clubs we will hold. Nunnally has been helping her. It will be good for the both of them."

It wasn't secure. Siebenberg had been in contact with people in Japan. But few people knew that her daughter was blind. And if Reuben was building the school from scratch, it would be secure. Still, she smiled. Her daughter would attend the school her namesake had dreamed off. It felt fitting. "I'll donate some funds to Odysseus. I imagine he will be rather excited about your little project."

"You think so? He has been busy reworking how to distribute alms."

Odysseus cared about everyone. It was his greatest weakness, but he was a good man. "Promise a medical program and you'll have his support." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> \- How much does a knightmare cost? I'm thinking at least 20 million pounds considering their sheer size. For more advanced models, something around 100-200 million pounds seems to be in the right ball park.  
\- The anime is really ambiguous regarding the entire structure of the military and how royalty fits into that. Prince Clovis has a royal guard, but they seem to be only loyal to him. The Knight of Honor also seems to be removed from the normal command structure. It's almost like there are two military organizations. One is loyal to the Empire and the Emperor, while the other one is loyal to the Princes and Princesses (and if you extrapolate, the noble lords) they serve.  
\- The sheer number of flying knightmares in season 2 makes me wonder about Britannia's production capabilities. It goes so quickly from zero to nothing and really, giving everyone an advanced knightmare, when they have a tendency to explode (courtesy of Kallen) seems like a huge waste of resources. Just because you're the Emperor, doesn't mean you don't have to follow a budget.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> This marks the end of the first arc as I've taken to calling it. We're super close to 100 followers on FFN, so I'll be updating on Saturday evening to ease my chapter debt and if we pass 100 follows by then, I'll be updating again on Monday.


	9. Newfound Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: 101 Followers on FFN Update!

** _January 12, 1990_ **

_ Guinevere is being annoying as usual. She constantly whines when things don't go her way. I do not understand how she can be so pompous. Maybe it's because she's three? _

_ Julianne and Victoria are both busy and the nurses are constantly fussing over them. They say the baby is going to come today. Father, of course, is on the battlefield. _

_ Schneizel was born a little before midnight. He's... not cute. I thought babies were supposed to be cute. He's a little creature with red skin. Cornelia is being stubborn according to Victoria. She doesn't want to see the world just yet. I hope father is going to come back soon from the war. I miss him. _

** _January 13, 1990_ **

_ Cornelia was born in the middle of the night, waking the entire household. She is loud! I've never heard a baby scream so loud before. Father apparently isn't coming back. He did call to tell us we'll be moving again soon. I'm going to be joining him on the battlefield after I turn six. I'm excited to see him then, even if I have to wait until August. _

** _January 28, 1990_ **

_ Julianne is leaving with Schneizel again. I'm not going to miss her. She's always so cold. I think I'll miss Schneizel, he's a much calmer baby than Cornelia. If it was up to her, she'd never let anyone sleep. Victoria is going to stay here, so that means Cornelia will stay here as well. The house is too small to escape her crying. _

_ Guinevere wants to play dress up. She orders the maid constantly. I'm currently hiding from her in the tree. We're moving next month to another safe location. _

_ —Excerpts from Odysseus’s Journal _

* * *

**Ricardo Hill, Ashford Estate, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch looked up at the sweltering sun as it beat down on the festivities. July was officially the worst month. Milly's twelfth birthday party was both extravagant and simple. The Ashford family was traditional and as Milly hadn't had her debut yet, she mingled with the commoners on holidays. Farmers and lumberjacks trickled in as they brought small portions of food and the buffet table slowly began to fill. Reuben walked through the crowd himself and stopped to chat with those that lived on his lands and listen to their concerns. On the hill's peak, craftsmen struggled to set up the tarp where the evening's festivity would occur.

Running his hand along the white ash wood bench, he wandered over to his sister who was eagerly attempting to weave a basket and failing. Lelouch smiled and sat down beside her. "Enjoying yourself Nunnally?"

"Yes brother," she said and then pointed to a young boy sitting across from her. "Tom is teaching me how to make a basket. Isn't that nice?"

Tom flushed and his red curls bounced on his head. He was half a head shorter than Nunnally. "Your sister's very nice."

The objective was to blend in. To everyone else, they were the new neighbors who had moved in after their mother had a falling out with their father. Pushing down any unease he felt, Lelouch tried to smile. "Of course she is. Nunnally is the best."

The redhead smiled again and grabbed some reeds to lay them out on the table. "Haven't seen you before. You're new to the area? You could visit. Big brother won't mind."

"Tom," shouted a young girl, also a red head. She waddled over and ignored her brother's disgusted look as she hugged his leg and smeared her chocolate hands all over him. "I'm bored. Play with me."

"Nikki. Get off. I'm busy."

Her brown eyes peered over the table. "That's boring. Play tag with me!"

Laughing, Nunnally finished guiding the reed. "We'll be done soon. Tom just needs to help me finish. And then we can play a ball game together. My ball makes funny sounds."

Nikki's eyes widened and Tom grumbled as he grabbed Nunnally's weave and began to connect the sides of the basket. Nikki bounced over to Nunnally. "I wanna a ball like that. Tom, please. Get big brother to get one for me."

"No Nikki. You can ask Saint Nicholas." He passed the finished and lopsided basket back to Nunnally who accepted it with a large smile. "Let's play ball."

Lelouch watched with concern as Nunnally clung to Tom's arm and they wandered to an open spot. She would be mad if he interfered, but he kept a close watch. The ball whistled as it flew through the air, allowing Nunnally to track it and enjoy the game. He was happy for her. Bored, he looked at the buffet table again and considered if it was rude to grab some food. There was nothing to do.

"Hello," another redhead stretched out his hand before his face. Lelouch shook the rough hand uncertainly. Shaking hands felt weird. "You're the new kid ain't you? I see you met my two younger siblings. We live a few houses down the road from you next to the large farm field."

Lelouch smiled politely and half rose as he saw Nunnally stumble. She stood up swiftly and threw the ball back. Turning to the stranger, he said, "Yes. Your siblings seem nice."

Small red fuzz adorned the older boy's cheeks and Lelouch could make out strong muscles underneath the thin shirt. "Everyone calls me Rick around here. Come one. Let me introduce you to some other folk." 

As Rick dragged him away, Lelouch threw a worried glance at Nunnally. Rick continued, "Also, whatever ya do, stay away from Mrs. Richardson's fruit punch. Tastes something awful and she brings it every time. Best to avoid her. She is the one always wearing fancy hats."

Rick stopped before another group of teenagers and threw his arm on Lelouch's shoulder. Lelouch could smell the redhead. Shrugging off the offending arm, Lelouch gave a polite bow. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lelouch."

Rick laughed. "No need to be so formal kiddo. It's a party have fun."

A petite brunette chuckled and offered her hand. "I'm Gwen. You've obviously met this big oaf Rick. And that," she pointed to the tall blue haired girl behind her, "is Oona. Her family has the best strawberries and her mom makes a wicked strawberry-blackberry pie." Gesturing to the aloof boy on her right, she said, "That's Louis. He's training to be a blacksmith under his father. Only one in the area, so don’t piss him off. His sister is also the only locksmith we’ve got, so don’t hit on her, or she’ll change your locks out of spite."

All too aware of their eyes observing his every room, Lelouch smiled and resisted the urge to bow. He had to fit in, otherwise his entire plan, would fall apart before it even started. His success depended on his acting abilities. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you."

Rick laughed again and his heavy arm settled on his shoulder. "So stiff! You look a little too young for alcohol, but we can definitely sneak you some."

"I'm thirteen and no thank you."

Gwen shook her head. "Your quest for drinking buddies must continue Rick, but thirteen. That's an important age. Almost fourteen. Whatcha planning to do?"

Oona rolled her eyes and before Lelouch could talk, shoved Gwen back. "Oh lay off. You're scaring him. And I don't need another drinking buddy. So you," her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, "better not show up in the bar. That's my and Rick's time. Just the two of us."

Lelouch nodded vigorously. How was he supposed to act? He could lie, fake a smile, and insult people through various degrees of formality. Gwen's hand settled on his head and she ruffled his combed hair. But touching was not something he understood.

"So is that your sister over there playing with Tom and Nikki?" Gwen asked. "Must say, you don't look very much alike. Her basket weaving skills leave much to desire."

"Don't insult Nunnally. She's trying her best."

"But..."

Rick shook his head. "Gwen. She's blind. Say Lelouch, haven't seen your folks. What do they do?"

Lelouch edged away from Rick as he shoved himself into his personal space. "Mother is deployed and my father isn't in the picture anymore."

Rick backed off and looked towards his two younger siblings. "It's tough to care for your siblings by yourself. Pa is down in Area Six with the army. It's just me watching Tom and Nikki with mum too sick. If you ever need any help, feel free to stop by."

It felt strange to be given a genuinely kind offer and Lelouch didn't shy away as Rick patted him on the back. Lelouch whispered, "Thank you."

Oona shook her head and sauntered to Rick. "Come on Ricky. Let's have some fun. Just you and me."

Waggling his eyebrows, Rick drew Oona into an embrace and they walked away, whispering to each other and giggling. Oona tilted her face up and Lelouch watched in horror as Rick leaned down to give her a kiss. His face hot, Lelouch turned away. The two other teens stared at him in amusement.

"Ah, to be young and in love," teased Gwen and he shivered as she directed a strange smile at him. "Got your own sweetheart yet?"

The aloof blacksmith boy, Louis, shook his head again and turned away. "I'm going to the buffet.”

Louis left without looking back. Gwen muttered something and turned her predatory smile on Lelouch again. He straightened automatically and the smile vanished. "You've got too much of a stick up your ass to be any fun."

"I'm sorry?"

"I guess in a few years perhaps if you loosen up a little. Your accent is just gorgeous."

Lelouch blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Oh disregard that. Besides, I need you to introduce your sister to my younger sister, Allie. I'll leave you alone then."

Introductions were common among nobility, but here at this gathering of commoners who brazenly barged into conversations and dismissed themselves, it felt out of place. "Why?" 

"Allie always has her nose in a book. She's never going to meet anybody. And I happen to know your sister is joining the test students at Ashford Academy."

It would be good for Nunnally to know someone else as well, but, "That list isn't public yet."

Gwen laughed. "Benefits of working at a news agency. Lord Ashford always sends important documents ahead so he can approve our articles. So you agree?"

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11**

Suzaku wobbled as he carried the laundry up the stairs to Chiba's flat. With the water and electricity finally back on, they could finally clean their laundry. As he ascended the stairs, he could hear Kudo crying through the walls and Chiba singing softly. Resting the basket against the wall, Suzaku took a moment to catch his breath. His shirt clung to him in the hot humid air.

The door across from him opened and the elderly Yamamoto peered through. Catching sight of Suzaku, he asked, "The washing machine is working again Suzaku-kun?"

"The washing machine is in the corner is working Yamamoto-sama."

He beamed. "Guess it is time to finally wash these clothes. Thank you Suzaku-kun. And how is your brother? Ko wasn't it?"

Ko's wailing increased and Suzaku grimaced. Lately Ko was never quiet and Chiba was at her wit's end, trying to placate her son. "He is teething."

Yamamoto-sama frowned and stared at the ceiling. "Wait here Suzaku-kun."

The door closed and Suzaku shifted the basket again. He really should get going. After lunch, he had to go job hunting again. Chiba had already sold off most of her jewelry and finer clothes to afford diapers and food.

The door opened. "Ah. I knew I had it here." Yamamoto-sama held out a small teething ring. "My granddaughter left it here last time. Take it."

Knowing better than to refuse, Suzaku accepted the gift and bowed deeply. "Thank you very much Yamamoto-sama."

Picking up the basket, he ascended the last flight of stairs. Chiba hushed the baby in the corner of the room while the Saito family worked on preparing dinner. A small breeze passed over Suzaku's damp forehead and he set the laundry basket on the ground. Pulling out the teething ring, Suzaku walked over to Chiba. 

"Yamamoto-sama gifted this for Ko."

She accepted it gratefully and Ko's chubby little hands snatched the ring in curiosity and his sobs ceased. Relief flooded the room and Suzaku turned back to the laundry so he could hang it up to dry.

Chiba set Ko down and walked over to him and pressed an apple into his hand as well a Britannian pound note.. "Let me, Suzaku. Ko is still too fussy to leave alone and we're running low on food."

Suzaku nodded. "I'll see you later Oba-san."

Juice dribbled down his chin as he bit into the apple and stepped outside onto the street. People passed by him, heads bowed and trying to not attract attention. He let himself enter the stream of people as they passed through military checkpoints where the Britannian soldiers harsh gaze stared down at them.

A few Britannian vendors lined the street as he approached the edge of Shinjuku where Britannia had begun to rebuild by tearing down the traditional Japanese buildings. He scanned the prices, once again, more than the previous week. The pound note would not be enough to feed everyone in the apartment. And while Chiba may have tried to hide it, the pound note was their last. 

His stomach grumbled and he eyed the soldier unwrapping a sandwich with jealousy. How could a Number survive when there were no jobs? He was too young for the mines and those like Yamamoto-sama were too feeble for such hard work. Were they all condemned to starve to death?

Things would get better. He would survive.

His eyes scanned the vendors and the prices. One of them hadn't changed. Still too expensive for him. He watched the dark skinned woman as she sold her goods to a passing soldier. When a young child tried to swipe a sandwich, she stopped him, but let him go. It would have been easy for her to drag the boy before the soldiers and insure that he would never bother her again.

Suzaku stopped before her stand and bowed, waiting to be acknowledged.

"I'm not running a charity here boy. Scram."

Still, he did not straighten. Suzaku glanced up between his bangs and spoke in fluent English. "I apologize for disturbing you ma'am."

Yellow eyes stared at him and she set aside the calculator in her hand. "You've got my attention boy. What do you want?"

"A job." His shoulders tensed as he waited for her to yell and berate him.

Instead, "You're the first one to ask. You look strong enough. I'll give you five pounds a day and lunch."

Everything would work out. "Yes ma'am. Thank you ma'am."

"You can start with unboxing the crates in the back kiddo."

As the sun began to set, he returned to Chiba with a small loaf of bread and two apples he bought with the additional five pounds. He could see the suspicion in her eyes as she accepted the food, but hunger stayed her questions. Everything would be alright. Ko gigled.

* * *

**Cornwallis County, Ashford Estate, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch looked up from the paperwork to observe Nunnally and Allie sitting in the corner and whispering stories to another. They both loved to read and Allie eagerly embraced the idea of learning braille. Together they would bake and do crafts. It was adorable and just like his sister to fit in seamlessly.

The small lightbulb flickered and Lelouch grimaced. The house had three rooms, a bedroom he shared with Nunnally, a kitchen/dining room, and a work room. He hadn't expected it to feel so stifling to live in a small space, but it was. Fortunately, Rick would come over on Sundays to help repair the house's constant issues. The single lightbulb flickered again and Lelouch looked at it warily. He was too short, even with the aid of a chair, to replace it. Hopefully, it would last until the weekend so Lelouch could finish the paperwork. 

A polite knock on the door.

Allie rushed to the door, shouting, "I got it! I got it!" 

Lelouch set the plastic fountain pen to the side and shifted Reuben's paperwork to the side, where no curious eyes could snoop. It was mostly tax returns, but a few of them were encoded messages concerning Reuben's research and it would be detrimental for the papers to fall in competitor's hands.

"Gwen!" Allie shouted and hugged her sister tightly. "Can Nunnally and I have a sleepover, please, itsy bitsy please?"

A sleepover? They hadn't discussed that with him. Sleepovers were a terrible idea. Sleeping in the same room with a stranger, would leave him defenceless. He barely knew Allie and while she seemed innocent enough, she could try to murder him. Cornelia had plenty of horror stories where children charmed their way into a household, only to poison their host. Practically speaking, Allie was a threat to their secret identity. What if they talked in their sleep? There were too many risks.

Nunnally walked over to him, stopping just short of the table. "Please Lulu. Please."

"Of course Nunnally," Lelouch replied automatically. 

Gwen chuckled. "Well if Lelouch agrees, you can stay the night. But you need to come home early, Ma and Pa are throwing a little family party. After all, you're going to school." Gwen hugged her little sister again. "I'm so proud of you! You're going to be amazing."

"Gwen, it isn't that big of a deal," Allie said as she escaped her sister's clutches and hid behind Nunnally.

Lelouch closed his eyes. What had he just agreed to? 

"So Lelouch," Gwen said as she sauntered over and tried to snatch a budget report, "the Lord has still got you doing all this busy work? Never thought being good at math would lead to such a punishment? At least tell me the pay is good."

He was getting paid twenty pounds a day after Reuben insisted and set Milly to harry him into submission. "The pay is fine."

"Well with Lord Ashford heading to Tokyo tomorrow night, you are going to need a new job?" She leaned in closer and ruffled his hair. "And guess who just got you a job at the newspaper! It's time to put your ridiculous vocabulary to work."

She wouldn't have gotten him a job if she suspected him, right? Or was this a ploy to gain his allegiance? While Reuben would probably still send excess paperwork his way until Lelouch officially enlisted, a job would help him blend in. Nobody would believe a prince wrote in the gossip rag. "Thank you Gwen. You didn't have to."

"Work starts the day after tomorrow at eight. I put my reputation on the line," she glowered at him, "so don't you dare to be late. And if anything happens to my sister, anything untoward, nobody will find your body."

Lelouch leaned back and swallowed. "I won't. I mean I'll be on time and your sister will be fine. I promise."

Gwen beamed and walked to the door. "Good luck Allie. I'll get you at seven tomorrow. Bye everyone."

The door slammed shut and Lelouch turned to Allie slowly. "Your sister absolutely terrifies me."

Allie beamed and Nunnally, the traitor, laughed at him.

* * *

**Blue Rose Villa, Outer Pendragon**

Arthur Greenford spotted Oberstein talking to Prince Clovis, the new Viceroy of Area Eleven, and snagged a glass of champagne. Around the ballroom, viscounts, earls, margraves, and royalty mingled and danced. In the center of the room, Empress Gabrielle la Britannia laughed and kept a watchful eye on her son. She spoiled him.

Prince Clovis laughed loudly and Arthur's lip curled. The boy always drank too much. Even Prince Odysseus, despite his dismal state of mediocrity, had a wonderful sense of responsibility. Prince Odysseus would never become inebriated in public. It was foolish to pass the viceroyship to someone so sheltered and weak. Watching Oberstein easily charm the young prince, reminded Arthur, that despite his personal beliefs, Prince Clovis would have substantial power. While some dared to go against a viceroy, few would dare to challenge royalty if they valued their health.

Walking over, Arthur bowed flamboyantly. "Hell your highness, congratulations on the viceroyship." He gave a shorter bow, one between equals to Oberstein.

Prince Clovis waved his hands. "None of that now. We are all friends here, aren't we Margrave Greenford?"

"Arthur, please, your highness."

Clovis smiled politely and gestured to Oberstein. "I was just discussing with Fredrick here, Reuben's new school. Ashford Academy. I'm sponsoring the art department. Isn't it amazing?"

Ashford was finding support for his inane idea. "Is it true, that the commoners may attend? Nobles and commoners mixing, it just isn't right."

"But artistic talent must be nurtured Arthur and it may be found anywhere. Some of the most renowned artist had barely a penny to their name. It sickens me to think that such talent could languish because no one wishes to support them."

Oberstein took a small sip from his crystal glass and said, "Prince Clovis fashions himself as sort of a patron of the arts. It is an admirable goal."

Of course the prince was too stupid to realize that Ashford wished to pool labor. If those commoners attended his school, they would feel indebted and gladly work in research. He turned to Oberstein. Surely, he wouldn't let this stand. "I imagine Lord Ashford will have great difficulties keeping the institute profitable. Tokyo will also be running a deficit for many upcoming years. Can Lord Ashford afford such an expenditure?"

Would Oberstein help Arthur, drive Ashford to bankruptcy?

Clovis laughed a little too loudly again. "Not to worry. My dear brother has also taken quite an interest."

Arthur took another sip to cover the grimace. Prince Schneizel had a tendency to run circles around everyone. If he was involved, Arthur would have to back off. No need to get the Prime Minister mad. His face impassive, he said, "Oh?"

"Odysseus has been complaining about the shortage of doctors for years. Not enough nobles want to be doctors and there are only so many students that can pass through an apprenticeship. It's a big problem."

Arthur pondered Prince Odysseus's involvement. Had the prince finally decided to try to play the game? If Prince Odysseus wished to against Prince Schneizel and keep the throne, Arthur would have to adjust his plans. Against Prince Schneizel, the child prodigy, he never had a chance, but against the foolish Prince Odysseus, he could work this to his advantage. 

"I believe the statistics were such: Ten percent from nobility, thirty percent through apprenticeships, another fifteen percent are foreigners, and fifty-five through the military. Giving commoners a medical education close to that of a noble, would mean we can reduce the number of foreign agents," mused Oberstein. "I imagine Prince Odysseus is setting up a contract for those who wish to pursue medicine."

Clovis nodded, although he looked quite befuddled as his eyebrows drew together. "Quite droll if you ask me. While I'm just helping to fund the art department, Odysseus is setting up a sub-department of the Office of Welfare to handle those pursuing medicine. There is some sort of psychological profile and background check. Also he is contacting doctors to arrange mentorships."

Reuben was being too successful, but Arthur ignored his rising ire at plans casually being thrown out of the window by the new revelations and asked, "How does Ashford Academy play into this?"

"I talked to Reuben yesterday about an art appreciation week, when he mentioned that he was finalizing the deal with Odysseus. Reuben gets some start up capital, but Ashford Academy gets paid for every certified doctor they produce."

Oberstein smiled. "I heard about that. The Imperial Academy will have the same conditions. The grant applies to any institution that graduates more than five students a year."

Arthur forced himself to smile and glanced around the room. Princess Guinevere conversed in the corner, surrounded by ladies and gossiping with his nephew. "I wish you the best of luck Prince Clovis. Being the Viceroy of Area Eleven will be no easy task. I haven't had the opportunity to introduce myself to Princess Guinevere yet. She did help plan this party?"

"I will not hold you hostage. And yes. It is a splendid party. Give her my thanks, will you?" Prince Clovis nodded curtly, before turning back to Oberstein.

With his own deep bow to Prince Clovis and nod to Oberstein, Arthur wandered over to Princess Guinevere. She looked absolutely fabulous in a deep purple dress with a plunging neckline. He could easily understand why his nephew, Bedivere, was so enamored by her. She would make a good ally and her beliefs were righteous. She believed in the superiority of the nobility and never wavered, unlike Oberstein who bent the rules if it increased his profits. With Prince Odysseus acting strangely, she would make a fine candidate in the potential fight for succession. There was a chance to oust Prince Schneizel and Arthur would take it.

"Margrave Greenford, what a delightful surprise. Have some hors d'oeuvres. The fish is simply divine," called Princess Guinevere and gestured to the buffet table besides her. His nephew took a few steps back to allow them to speak.

Arthur bowed and dutifully grabbed a plate. "Your highness, I hope that my nephew hasn't been too tiring?" 

"Not at all. He has the most amusing stories to tell. How are your two daughters Lord Greenford?"

"Arianell is expecting. She and Michael are over the moon. Rowena just received a courting gift from Margrave Osborne's eldest son, Ewen."

Princess Guinevere spread a fan to cover her mouth as her eyes glistened with amusement. "Are you merging your estates since both your son-in-law have their own inheritance?"

Had one of his daughters not married an heir, he wouldn't have such an issue. But Arthur didn't particularly mind; men were more capable of ruling. "Bedivere will inherit. He is quite capable and my younger brother's lands are inconsequential, but Caroline will inherit them instead."

Princess Guinevere's eyes flashed to Bedivere by his side. Royals, despite all their connections, had very little land to their name. They accrued massive wealth due to their status, but land was everything. Perhaps Bedivere and Guinevere would not marry, but there was a chance and it would tie her closely to his own goals. His nephew, the Emperor Consort. It had a nice ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
\- In the anime, we know there are nobles, but not really what they do. Basing this on more medieval history, the nobles are the landowners and "rent" out land to the commoners.  
-The Ashford Estate gets its name from the white ash trees which used to be its main export.  
-Odysseus is born in 1984, making him 5 1/2 years older than Schneizel.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> We actually reached 101 followers this morning, so thank you everyone. :) I'm glad that people are enjoying the story. I'm still updating an extra chapter on Monday, because I missed two updates. Regular updates will continue on Wednesday evenings (my time).
> 
> The next special update, will be at 100 kudos/bookmarks/reviews/favorites or 250 follows.
> 
> I'm also considering creating a discord server, would anyone be interested?


	10. Birthday Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: All For Nunnally

** _August 5, 1991_**

_ Seven years old now. Father actually showed up and looked at my art work. I think he liked it. He didn't take it with him when he had to leave. _

** _September 12, 1991_ **

_ Gabrielle is becoming father's new consort. I think that means I'm going to have a new sibling soon. There were lots of knights at the party which made Cornelia happy. She wants to be a knight. I don't think she understands that girls aren't supposed to be knights. There were lots of nobles at the gathering. Everyone wanted to shake my hand. I don't remember any of their names. I hope father isn't disappointed. _

** _January 16, 1992_ **

_ Gabrielle lost the baby. Everyone is really sad. I'm going to write a "Get Well Soon" note. I hope she doesn't mind. _

_ The war is starting to settle down. Some of the adults are saying, that it'll be over soon. It's just Brandon vi Britannia and Charles zi Britannia. They're not taking much military actions. It's sort of nice, knowing no one is going to die. _

** _July 12, 1992_ **

_ The peace is broken. It's hard to understand. But Brandon declared himself the 97th Emperor. I think he's father's uncle. Father says he is the rightful heir, because his father was supposed to ascend to the throne before being assassinated. The staff is talking about moving again. With father in opposition, it's only a matter of time before he is targeted by assassins. I hope they'll be able to find a compromise. _

** _August 5, 1992_ **

_ Eight years old doesn't feel that different from seven years old. I'm still just as useless. Father didn't show up, I wonder what he's doing. So far nothing has been happening, so maybe he's making peace with the Emperor. _

_ —Excerpts from Odysseus’s Journal _

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Tokyo, Area 11**

Nunnally lay her cane against the wall and slipped off her shoes, as she entered her warm dorm room. The summer heat hadn’t completely passed yet despite fall quickly approaching. The new wood smell was still prominent, but it was slowly being replaced by a tangy musk and the scent of oranges. Allie, her roommate, loved oranges and spent the majority of her stipend buying oranges.

The sound of paper pages brushing against another greeted her. It seemed that Allie hadn't noticed Nunnally's arrival, and once again, had her head stuck in a book. Trying to remember where the furniture was, Nunnally carefully walked to her desk with the braille typewriter. She had a letter to write to Lelouch. Phone calls across different areas were too expensive. Her hand briefly checked for her wallet, where she was saving the meager stipend. She would call Lelouch on his birthday in a few months. It hurt to be so far away and unable to talk to him. Hopefully he was alright.

"Damn it!" Piercing pain shot up her leg as her toes slammed into a chair. Hopping up and down on her leg, Nunnally clutched her foot as she tried to suppress the tears forming in her eyes. That hurt.

"Oh Nunnally, I'm so sorry." Allie raced over to her and guided her gently down into the chair that Nunnally had run into. "I totally forgot. I'm a terrible friend."

Nunnally took a deep breath and forced herself to smile to calm Allie down. "Don't worry. It took Lelouch a while to remember to put everything back exactly where he found it."

"You weren't always blind?"

Nunnally froze. It was so easy to relax around Allie. That wasn't good. She couldn't let anything about her identity slip. But she wanted to trust Allie. She felt nice and never talked down to her. Instead, she shared stories and ideas, always assuming that Nunnally would follow, despite her disability. Only Lelouch treated her as a whole person, even her mother, either through letters or her sparse phone calls, treated her like a piece of glass. 

Pushing down her nervousness, Nunnally replied, "There was an accident when I was five. I hit my head really hard. The doctors said I damaged my optical nerve. I can see really bright things, but that's it."

Allie hugged her and the curly hair tickled Nunnally's face. "Thank you for telling me. Is that why your mother has to work always? She needs to pay off medical debts?"

Her mother had always been busy serving the Empire with all her might, but the truth wasn't something that Nunally could share. Instead, with a bitter taste in her mouth, Nunnally lied, "Something like that. Brother is mad at her for always working."

"Well, he's being silly. Ma and Pa have to work really hard, so Gwen usually watches over me. But they still love me," said Allie.

It would be nice for Lelouch to forgive her and perhaps respond the letters her mother sent. Sadly, Nunnally said, "Lulu always held onto a grudge."

"Are you alright now? I want to head to the market, oranges are on a discount on Fridays. And I need to get you a present for next month."

"You don't need to get me anything."

"Of course I do. It's your birthday and my best friend is turning eight and we're going to celebrate it. If I'm going to give you Lelouch's present, then you're also getting one from me." Allie grabbed her hand, and started pulling her towards the door.

Lelouch had gotten something for her. The desolate feeling in her chest lightened. Her brother remembered; he was always looking out for her. It would never change. "Alright. Wait, I need to put on my shoes."

Allie pressed Nunnally's cane into her hands and fidgeted as she slipped into her shoes. "Come on. We have to go before everyone else gets there. I want the good oranges."

* * *

**Paris, E.U.**

Driving her wheelchair through the narrow cobblestone streets smelling of freshly roasted chestnuts, Marianne observed the small window shops with Bismark trailing her. She finally had time off after two weeks of negotiations that went from dawn to dusk. The other diplomats were surely asleep, but Marianne was on a much belated mission: finding a birthday present for Nunnally. It would unfortunately arrive late, but Marianne would not let Nunnally receive some inconsequential gift from her mother. It had to be perfect. After all, Nunnally still spoke to her, even if she hadn't forgiven her mother completely.

A beautiful pink dress caught her eyes. "Bismark. Do you think Nunnally would like it?"

"Your highness, it's a bit too expensive since," he said and his voice dropped to a whisper, as he added, "she is passing for a commoner."

Right. Marrianne pursed her lips. What had she gotten for her birthday as a child? For her twelfth, plenty of books. A sword for her fourteenth. Neither of those were something Nunnally would enjoy. Maybe something more simple. Her eyes wandered to an elderly man, his back hunched over from excessive strain throughout his life, slowly whittling a piece of wood. Small wooden sculptures stood proudly on the blanket before him.

It was simple. Pathetically so compared to what she had become used to. But it was perfect. Nunnally always loved art, and sculpture was one of the few ways she could still enjoy it.

Marianne stopped before him, the wheels ceasing their rhythmic clicking. The man's gaze slowly traveled from her pristine, black leather boots, up her off-white silk dress and the lace finish on the ruffles, to her dark blue bodice, while his face grew paler. Craning his neck, he caught sight of Bismark and she could see the spark of fear in his eyes, and the muscles coiling, as he prepared to flee.

"How much for a sculpture?" she asked in English, refusing to lower herself to speak in French. Marianne gestured at the assortment laying on the blanket. A wooden flute caught her eye and she leaned out of her wheelchair to pick it up.

The wrinkles on the old man shifted as he nodded and pointed at the item in her hand and held up three fingers, then splayed all ten fingers two times. Twenty-three.

Grabbing a carving of a young girl riding a dolphin, she inspected it. Nunnally would love it. "How much?"

He held out four fingers and flashed ten fingers three times. Thirty-four. His eyes darted between her and Bismark fearfully.

Unwilling to haggle, Marianne pulled out fifty-seven euros and dropped them on the ground. The man grasped for them and bent over to quickly collect them. Scowling at his pathetic display of greed, Marianne rolled backwards. She had other gifts to buy. It wouldn't do for her European friends to get suspicious as to why she would only buy a commoner's item. Perhaps she could get something for Charles? Or a book for Lelouch? They weren't too expensive and an untranslated version of  _ The Count of Monte Cristo  _ would surely please him. It would probably be best to wait to send it, until he actually replied to her letters. She didn't even know if he had read them.

* * *

**Elizabeth Square, Tokyo, Area 11**

Nunnally let Allie grasp her by the upper arm, as she guided them through the crowded market place and past the delicious scents of pumpkin soup. Loud clangs and squealing motors could be heard over the din of Britannians going throughout their day. Cold air blasted Nunnally as they stepped inside a building and she could hear the sound of hammers and drills as Britannian commoners worked to rebuild Tokyo. She had never seen Tokyo, but Nunnally couldn't help but grieve for what was one a proud Japanese city. 

"This mall is cool! And I can't believe how fast they got it done. Must have put some Elevens to work." Allie pulled on Nunnally's hand as she ran to the side. "Oh. Look at this! It's so pretty. And there's a boutique. It looks so fancy."

Nunnally let her friend drag her along as she darted from window to window and chattered excitedly.

Strong smells struck her nose, and Nunnally pulled back as she wandered over. It smelled nice. And there, mixed between lavender and the smell of berries, was the familiar and agonizing smell of cherry blossoms. 

Allie stopped. "Right. I wish you could see all of this Nunnally. It does smell nice, although," her skirt rustled as she opened a zipper, "I don't think we can afford anything here."

"It smells so nice," said Nunnally and she pulled her friend inside, who yanked her to the right, out of the way of a customer. With Allie guiding her out of the way, Nunnally followed the scent of cherry blossoms. She wanted something to remind her of Suzaku and the wonderful time they had in Japan. Everything that reminded her of Japan, had been stolen from her, but perhaps she could reclaim a part to treasure.

Nunnally stopped. There it was. Carefully, she reached forward. Surely the scent was there.

"Hey brats! This isn't a place for children. Think you can just waltz in here and scurry around as you please? Now get out!" shouted an irate woman and her heels echoed across the tiled floor. Her accent, as Nunnally was beginning to realize, was of the nobility. 

Her back instinctively straightened and she turned to the woman. How dare she be so rude? Their age shouldn't matter and it was completely inappropriate to talk down to them like that.

Before Nunnally could voice her displeasure, Allie cut in, "I'm sorry my lady. We were just curious we will be out of your hair." Allie's shirt brushed against her skirt and the air felt different. Allie jabbed her in the ribs and hissed, "Bow." 

Nunnally complied although her body screamed in protest. She wasn't in the wrong. The lady had been. 

Allie gave her no time to complain as she pushed her out of the store and back onto the bustling Elizabeth Square. Allie let go of her hand. "Seriously. You're just as bad as Lelouch sometimes. What were you thinking?"

Ignoring Allie's irate tone, Nunnally stood impassively and said, "She shouldn't have spoken to us like that."

"Are you insane? She was a _ noble _!" The world noble was spat with so much vehemence that Nunnally took a step back. Allie took a deep breath. "You can never trust nobility. They'll hurt you if you don't watch your back. That's what they do."

Would Allie hate her if she knew that Nunnally was royalty? Quietly and without any power, she asked, "What of Lord Ashford? He is kind."

Allie snorted. "That's what our lord wants you to believe. He treat us well because it benefits him. But it's not like he cares that nobody can sell anything because he doesn't play politics. Rick and Tom barely had enough to eat this year, their ma had to take a loan, but they canna afford that! But it's not like our lord cares, they aren't smart enough to be worth his attention."

Reuben had been so kind. Surely Allie was mistaken. He always felt genial with soft touches and a warm voice that could never bring harm to anyone. Never had someone spoken ill of him. Her own mother always spoke of him fondly, a tone reserved only for those she considered family. Folding her hands together, she said, "He always is so nice and helpful. And he is funding the school."

Allie grabbed her arms. "Don't fall for his lies. People with money are always lying and putting on," she stumbled over the next word, "facades."

"But,"

"Ain't no but there. That's how they are. That's why we common folk have to stick together. Even if I become famous, I ain't gonna sell myself out to the nobility. No one will ever call me my lady."

Nunnally turned away. "What about Empress Marianne?"

"She sold herself out to the Emperor. She ain't any better than any of the other nobles. Liars the lot of them." Allie ended her angry tirade and suddenly sounded chipper again, "Never mind that. Let's go find some oranges."

Her heart broke, but Allie didn't seem to notice her despondent state as she guided her through the crowd. Nunnally could never tell her friend the truth. Allie would hate her. Suzaku had been her first friend, but he was probably dead despite Lelouch's irrational optimism. And if he were alive, he would surely hate her. Her family had stolen everything from him: his parents, his home, his identity. She had never done anything to Allie, her family never would, she wasn't worthy of their notice, but Allie would still hate Nunnally, simply because of who she was born. It was unfair. She just wanted a friend.

Someone ran into her to her chest. Short and smelling of ash, sweat, and a faint hint of rice. Allie grabbed him and pushed herself between Nunnally and the young boy.

"Sumimasen," the boy cried out and Nunnaly could hear the fear in his voice. _ Sorry _. It had been so long since she had heard Japanese.

"What do you think you are doing," Allie shouted. "Apologize you idiotic Eleven."

The Japanese boy breathed rapidly. She could hear him struggling, meaning Allie must have grabbed him. He sounded terrified as he one again, cried, "Sumimasen."

The boy was sobbing. Nunnally stepped forward, and rested her hand on Allie's back. "Let him go, he said he was sorry."

"No he didn't. I bet he was try to rob us. That's all that Numbers are good for."

Nunnally frowned at her friend. The boy was probably starving. He was too young to work in the mines and nobody would dare to hire an Eleven, definitely not so soon after some terrorists tried to assassinate her mother and various other nobles in Tokyo. Or at least that was the official story, her mother was way too worried about Nunnally and Lelouch's safety, for that to be everything. Pulling out her wallet, she searched for a five pound coin: an octagon with her father's face on it. 

Finding the coin, she grasped Allie's shoulder. Turning to where she could hear the boy struggling, she gave a deep Japanese bow and offered the coin. "Sumimasen."

As she held the bow, Nunnally wasn't sure for what she was apologizing. Her friend, her mother, or simply being too weak to help. She had felt the destruction of Japan and smelt the corpses. But she was still living in luxury, she was just as guilty as the rest of her people.

A small hand, rougher than any child's hand should be, grabbed the coin. Nunnally turned to Allie. "Let him go."

Allie's hand brushed against Nunnally as she complied. Surprisingly, instead of the patter of feet Nunnally expected, she heard the boy whisper in reverence, "Arigato." _ Thank you. _

Small feet pattered against the ground and were soon obscured by the sound of Britannians shopping. Allie grasped her hand and said quietly, "Let's return to school."

Nunnally let herself be steered away. She shouldn't have revealed that she knew Japanese. No commoner would. No noble would either. What did Allie think? She wished her friend would speak, say anything, yell at her and proclaim her hatred, instead Allie was silent. 

Nunnally hated the silence.

* * *

**Cornwallis County, Ashford Estate, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch slowly slid the pound coins into the slot and listened to them fall into the cavity. A call to Area 11 would cost two pounds per minute. He had saved as much as he could, but food, repairs, and ink ate into his savings more than he expected. Perhaps he should have let Reuben pay him more, instead of protesting. The newspaper did pay more for his help, twenty-five pounds per article he assisted on. Had he been fourteen and legally allowed to be hired full time, he would have earned seventy pounds.

He slid the finally coin in and pulled out Nunnally's last letter to double check the phone number to dial. Despite his inexperience, he was managing to stand on his own two feet. He didn't need the Emperor's money, or his mother's. He would take care of Nunnally just fine. That was his responsibility.

The phone began to ring and Lelouch gingerly lifted the receiver to his ear. It would be great to finally hear Nunnally's voice again.

Something clicked on the other side and impatience burned within him. Not waiting for a reply, he said, "Happy Birthday Nunnally!"

"Nunnally! It's your brother," replied a muffled shout from Allie.

Lelouch fidgeted. He had forgotten they shared a room. It was unlike him. 

Finally, at last, Nunnally's sweet, precious, voice resounded through the speaker. How he had missed her. "Hello brother."

"Happy Birthday Nunnally!" And even though she could not see him, he smiled. 

"Thank you. How are you? It's so good to hear from you. How many minutes do we have?"

"Eight minutes. And I'm doing well. The job at the newspaper is going well and Lord Ashford still sends me paperwork. I think I've got a permanent cramp in my hand."

Amused laughter filled him with warmth. "Oh Lulu. You can't be lazy anymore. But you are still exercising? The army isn't going to be easy. I don't want you to get sick."

"Everyone morning and evening. I can run a mile now, so don't you worry, I'll be fine," he assured her. He still felt like dying afterwards, but he still had the entire month of November and December to improve his physique. It would have to be enough. The military was the only way forward.

"Allie says you run like a dying cow. And you better exercise more. I do agree brother, I'm so worried for you. I won't be able to call you when you enlist."

His stomach clenched. Enlisting wouldn't be easy. Death was a possibility and who would defend Nunnally then? But if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to defend her either. It had to be enough. 

He allowed none of his worry to slip into his tone as he said, "Don't worry Nunnally. I'm going to be fine. And I'll send you as many letters as I can. How is school?"

Thankfully, Nunnally didn't press anymore and allowed the topic to change."It's going great. We don't have many teachers yet, but Lord Ashford hired his old lab assistant, Mr. William Bauer to teach us science. He is so amazing. We do so many cool things in his class.”

Lelouch felt himself grown warm despite the freezing evening hair. It didn’t matter if his fingers were rapidly turning white as he held the telephone. Nunnally was enjoying herself.

“Next week, we're going to make a battery from scratch. And he says that once we become upper years, he is going to teach us to make a radio," she happily finished.

"That sounds useful."

"It's fun, not useful. Not everything needs to be useful. Then we have Mr. Ricci who's teaching biology and English. On the weekend, he works at the hospital. Sometimes, he gets called away because they need him."

"Sounds interesting, but you are having fun?" asked Lelouch. It wouldn't do for his sister to drown in work. He had to shelter what was left of her childhood. He would protect her, even if that meant sacrificing everything else. It had always been that way and always would be.

"Allie and I are having a lot of fun. Thank you for making this possible Lulu." She paused and then continued on, chiding him, "But you have fun too, you can't be all responsible all the time. Mr. Ricci says stress isn't good for your health."

His eyes burned from fatigue as he lied, "Don't you worry. I'll take care of myself." The line chimed. "I'm out of time Nunnally. I'm sorry that I couldn't get you a present, but shipping..."

"Hearing your voice was the best present you could have gotten me." Her voice became softer. "I miss you brother. Love you."

"Love you too Nunnally. I hope—"

The line cut. Lelouch placed the receiver back and looked up at the horizon where the last remainder of daylight disappeared. Nunnally seemed happy and although his stomach rumbled, he had never felt more fulfilled. As the street lights slowly flickered on, Lelouch forced himself to jog home. He would succeed in the army for Nunnally and then they could talk for as long as they wanted on the phone. He would even have the funds to visit her. That was his goal. A simple life where Nunnally would be happy.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Tokyo, Area 11**

Nunnally scowled as the line disconnected. She wanted more time with her brother, but there was nothing to do. If she wanted to talk to Lelouch on his birthday, she couldn't squander her stipend greedily. She would just have to wait, like everyone else. For now, Nunnally was part of everyone else. She was just Nunnally Lamperouge with all the benefits and disadvantages that came with it. Yawning, Nunnally turned away, intent on returning to bed. If she hurried, she could take a power nap before her first class. 

Moving into her personal space, Allie pressed a small wrapped package in her hand. "Open it. Come on. I want to see your face. I've had the twenty-fifth of October marked forever in my calendar. Go on, please."

Nunnally ran her hand around the package, finding the braille tag. _ To my best friend _ , _ Happy Birthday. _

In the past few months, Allie had bugged her constantly to translate certain braille passages. All for this. How long had she been planning this? Overcome with joy, she threw herself at Allie and hugged her. "Thank you, thank you so much. You're amazing."

"You haven't even opened it," she complained. "You can't thank me yet. Now don't keep me in suspense forever."

Tracing the contour of the box, Nunnally found the small piece of tape and began to slowly and delicately peel it off. To the side, Allie fidgeted. The first piece of tape removed, Nunnally began on the next piece.

Allie, impatient, tore the box from her hand. "That's not how you unwrap things."

Paper ripped and Nunnally cringed.

The box, free of wrapping, was shoved back into her hands. "Here you go. Don't know why I wrapped it in the first place..."

Her friend was truly precious. Nunnally felt the box. It was made of cardboard and she could feel something heavy shifting inside of it. Carefully, she unfolded the lid. Her hand reached inside and brushed against a cold hard surface: glass. Inside of the miniature bottle, something swished. She pulled it out and ran her hand along the top, discovering a small cap. It smelled sweet and of rubbing alcohol. 

Turning to her friend, Nunnally asked, "What is it?"

"Remove the cap." Allie ordered before guiding her fingers to the cap and helping her to remove it.

The scent of cherry blossoms burst forth and wafted through the air. It was the best of Japan: captured in a small bottle. Nunnally held the bottle reverently, tears forming in her eyes. "Allie, how?"

"It's from Gwen and me. I noticed you looking at it the other day and then... Well, you understood Japanese. Did you have a friend from Japan, from before Britannia invaded?"

In a sense. But Nunnally didn't want to lie, not after her friend must have saved every coin she had and begged her sister to help. Suddenly the conspicuous lack of oranges in the past few weeks made sense. So she told the censored truth, "He was the first friend Lulu and I made. He and Lulu hated each other at first, but then, almost overnight, they became the best of friends. I miss him."

Allie pulled her in for a hug. "I'm sorry you had to lose a friend, but know you have something to remember him by."

Nunnally was crying and clinging onto Allie with a small glass bottle of home in her hands. "Thank you. You're amazing Allie."

"Don't cry Nunnally." Allie pressed a small tissue to her face to blot the tears. "You're supposed to be happy."

"I'm happy." Nunnally hiccuped and smiled as more tears began to form. "I just can't stop crying. I'm so happy. You are an amazing friend and Gwen is amazing."

Allie laughed. "Gwen did basically adopt your brother, although I'm not sure he noticed yet."

"No, Lulu can be a little blind at times." Nunnally chuckled and began to laugh as well. Just the mere thought of her brother cheered her up. She should use some perfume on her next letter. He would probably enjoy it as well. Hopefully the scent wouldn't fade too much in the mail. "Do you want to breakfast?"

"Let me get dressed first Nunnally. Although, as the birthday girl, you could probably get away with going in pajamas."

Breakfast in pajamas would be indecent. Her face burned.

"Just like your brother. Both of you can be so uptight," Allie complained.

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

The car came to a halt with a jerk. The seat belt dug into his skin and Lelouch glared at the driver's seat, where Oona, smirked and kissed Rick. The two of them were terrible drivers, but Lelouch couldn't complain about a free ride even if it was by the most uncomfortable car ride he had ever taken.

Gwen raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Think they'll be decent if we leave them alone?"

Lelouch and Rick blushed while Oona chortled. She opened the door. "Come on, I want to get back before sundown, so everyone out."

Shaking his head fondly, Lelouch stepped outside into the freezing winter air. January. Fort Necessity and it's large parking lot greeted him. Buses and cars were parked in long symmetrical rows as soldiers guided incoming traffic and barked viciously at those who veered too far off course. He was finally taking the first step out of his parent's shadows. It was finally time. He wanted to throw up.

Gwen closed the trunk with a loud thud and pushed a duffel bag into his arms. "Come on kiddo. Don't get cold feet now. We're all cheering for you."

Shrugging, Oona locked the door. "More like praying for his survival. He's all skin and bones."

Lelouch scowled and Rick threw his arm over Lelouch's shoulder and then proceeded to ruffle his hair. "They make all the new recruits cut their hair short. I'm going to miss this."

Glaring at the obnoxious, and as always, overly friendly teen, he wondered if Rick meant he would miss Lelouch or the opportunity to make it look like he never brushed his hair. It was hard to tell, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. In their own unique ways, they care for him. Oona and Gwen would tease him mercilessly, while Rick took every opportunity to abolish the idea of personal space. He would almost dare to say that they were... friends.

"You didn't have to go out of your way to drive me here. I would have managed to arrange transportation for myself," said Lelouch.

Gwen looked almost disappointed. Ominously, she said, "Someday."

“Aww, I made him nervous. Lelouch the robot is returning,” said Rick and he laughed loudly, “It’s going to be hilarious when the drill sergeant asks you something.”

“Why?” Lelouch asked as he warily eyed Rick, out of the corner of his eyes. That smile always spelled personal trouble.

Rick ruffled his hair again. “Never seen anyone besides you be so formal as to make someone else cry. It’s a gift kid.”

Sputtering, Lelouch said, “I most certainly do not weaponize formality. It’s called being polite, you should try it sometime.”

Gwen chuckled. “You’re doing it again Lelouch.”

They were impossible. He wasn’t doing anything.

Noticing Lelouch beginning to object, Rick cut in, “Best not argue with Gwen. She’s always right. And ya don’t her to get mad at you, right?”

Lelouch gulped and placed the duffel bag down on the ground before him. He would ignore them and their pointless needling. Checking the side pockets with Rick looming over his shoulder, he pulled out his forged paperwork, courtesy of Reuben.

"We'd have a problem if you forgot the paperwork," said Rick as he pulled the duffel bag out of Lelouch's grasp and hoisted it onto his shoulders. "Let's get you checked in with the rest of the juniors. Now, there are a few things you should know, always do as the drill sergeant says. Always. No matter what. Also remember to do your laundry and to watch the machine or else someone will ruin your clothes."

Gwen swiped the papers out of Lelouch's hands as he stared at the ground in embarrassment. "Surprised you have them all in order. You're really me-ti-culous aren't you. Usually people forget one. And don't mind Rick, he just likes acting as a proud dad."

Lelouch imagined the Emperor giving advice and carrying a duffel bag on his shoulders, while his robe passed over the muddy ground. It was a ridiculous image and Lelouch couldn't stop himself from snickering. The Emperor would never be caught in such an undignified position, but he glanced at Rick, still chattering his ear off with somewhat helpful advice about fire watch, surviving tear gas, and how to catch up on sleep. Was that what a father was supposed to do? 

Approaching the line, helpfully labeled as junior enlistment, Lelouch watched the other families say goodbye to their sons and for a few, daughters. There were tears from parents, although the majority of the youth seemed ready to escape. Closer to the concrete building, adults gathered for the regular enlistment. 

All soldiers joined the Britannian army in one of three ways. Those eighteen and younger could join junior enlistment which meant a fifteen year long commitment, but came with benefits such as education. If one couldn't secure an apprenticeship, it was a logical choice. Regular enlistment had no such benefits, but offered higher pay. The last option was through a lord's recommendation for exquisite service in the militia.

Rick stopped and pulled him into a tight hug that squeezed Lelouch's rib and left him gasping for air. "Good luck kiddo. This is the end of the line for us."

Lelouch smiled and accepted the duffel bag back. "It was nice knowing you."

"You earn a day of leave every month. You better save some of those up and visit us," said Gwen with a sniff. "If you don't, I'll tell Allie and she'll tell Nunnally."

Faced with the most dire threat of Nunnally being unhappy Lelouch folded. "I'll visit."

Gwen smiled and passed back the papers. "Don't die."

Oona pulled Rick back and glared at Lelouch. "You will write. I'm expecting a letter every week."

Her gaze bore down on him and Lelouch nodded. She was almost as terrifying as her mother when she finally lost her temper and became deadly efficient with a quiet grace. He turned to all of them and instead of shaking their hands, as he had grown accustomed to, he bowed respectfully. "Thank you for everything. I will write. And remember you."

Rick laughed and ruffled Lelouch's one last time before snagging Oona's arm and turning back to the car. With a wave over his shoulder, he shouted, "See you kiddo."

Oona waved as well, while Gwen stayed behind. She turned and looked at Lelouch fondly and reached out to touch his hair, before pulling her hand back. "You obviously don't like hugs Lelouch, but what about a handshake for good luck?"

Reaching out, Lelouch grabbed her hand firmly. "I'll visit."

"I know. Goodbye." She turned around and hurried to catch up with her friends. She turned around one last time and waved.

Unsure, Lelouch waved back, suddenly feeling very alone. He once again knew no one, but this time Nunnally wasn't there to bridge the gap of awkwardness between him and others. Clenching his fist, he turned around and joined the line. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Britannia may claim to have freedom of the press, but it is heavily censored by either the government or lords withholding essential funding.  
-While Tokyo was almost untouched compared to other Japanese cities, it still needs repairs. Furthermore, Britannia wants to homogenize it so many iconic buildings and such are either torn down or purposefully untouched. Slowly, Tokyo is evolving into ghetto and non-ghetto areas.  
-Realistically speaking, one can't open a brand new type of school and expect it to be fully enrolled. Ashford Academy is heavily under construction and the majority of students are there as test subjects from the Ashford Estate.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> This was the makeup chapter 1 out of 2. Next update is on Wednesday, like normal. Benefit of Nanowrimo: an excess number of chapters.


	11. Drill Sergeant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:   
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Dance of Masks

_ Dear Nunnally. _

_ How is school going? Is Allie adjusting well to school life? I'm a little bit worried about our elder cousin, and feeling a little guilty because she encouraged your dream, and maybe it isn't everything she imagined. Check in on her. We owe that much at least to our favorite relative.  _

_ It's been snowing a lot at the base, but the first week of training went well. You don't have to worry and while I'm not the fittest, I'm far from the worst. I know that Rick shared some horror stories regarding the Drill Sergeants, but he grotesquely exaggerated. The Drill Sergeant is strict, but there aren't any extreme punishments or such. Even the food isn't that bad although I'm missing the kitchen back home terribly. _

_ I'm going to save up all the money I earn and use it to visit you in October for your birthday. I'll even cook for the two of us and it will be amazing. Are there any dishes you're thinking of? I'm hoping we can get some rice and spices. Drop an egg or two in that and it would be amazing. Ok. I'm missing food so much. But it will be fine because once we get a little bit further along in training, we can leave the base and go to the nearby town. My friends and I can pool together money and barbecue a nice piece of steak. My mouth is watering at the thought. _

_ Mail day is sporadic from my understanding, so I'll write letters every week, but it may take some time for me to receive yours. Just a little warning. Also don't send me any food or personal items. I don't think the mailman is too careful if you catch my drift. And food, unfortunately, would be contraband. _

_ Missing you dearly and sending his best wishes, _

_ Your favorite brother, _

_ Lelouch _

_ *January 28, 2012: FLAGGED: Suspicious Activity.* _

_ *Yellow Flag on Lelouch Lamperouge* _

_ *STATUS: Monitor Communications, Report All Suspicious Activity* _

_ -From OSI Logs _

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch, his head feeling strangely light after his buzzcut, observed the other recruits clutching rifles tightly in the packed waiting room. Some were talking in whispered tones or slowly pacing the room in boredom. They looked nothing like the Britannian army despite the new bluish grey uniforms and fresh short hair cut; they lacked a certain feeling of dignity. To Lelouch, they all looked like children playing dress up. 

Another recruit entered the room and looked around, lost. His arm band was yellow, like Lelouch's, showing he was part of the Epsilon platoon. Not wanting to make conversation and his body humming with restless energy, Lelouch stood up to stretch his legs, making sure to grab his issued rifle, which he had been told was life.

A young girl waved at him and staring at her buzz cut Lelouch's mind suddenly wandered to his sister, Cornelia. She had also enlisted, the only one in his family to do so, but in the officer's school. Had they forced her to cut her hair to try and strip her of her identity? There were very few things Cornelia cared about. Sweet Euphemia was one. And as Lelouch had discovered when he was six and took a scissor to Cornelia's head while she was asleep, she loved her hair. Cornelia had been livid and it was the first time he could recall his mother grounding him. Surely, she would have objected, and perhaps, officer training was different. Nobles got special treatment after all.

Another recruit stumbled into the room, followed by seven soldiers wearing one of those strange brown cowboy hats common in Area 1. The wide brim hid their eyes with dark shadows and they stopped at attention by the wall. Lelouch paused and snapped to attention, other recruits mimicking him. The door swung shut behind the last soldier with a blue hat and his eyes scanned the room.

"When a drill sergeant enters the room, you will show us respect. Hold attention. Heels together," he barked. He paced the front of the room, back and forth as he continued. "I am Head Drill Sergeant Vincent Hendrickson. We are not friends. You will not address me as sir, Hencrickson, or god forbid, Vincent. When I order you to do something, you will say 'yes, Head Drill Sergeant.' Do you understand?"

"Yes Head Drill Sergeant," they chorused back, voices overlapping.

"Together. 'I understand Head Drill Sergeant,'"

"I understand Head Drill Sergeant." They were almost in unison this time.

The Head Drill Sergeant gestured to the men holding attention by the wall. "These are your Drill Sergeants. Each one of you will be assigned to a platoon according to the color on your armband. Any Drill Sergeant may give you an order and you will comply. I don't care if you are busy or if you had previous orders, we are in charge and you will obey us unconditionally.

"You are now part of the Britannian military. That means the army owns your body and soul for the next fifteen years. When I say jump, you will not ask how high, your feet will immediately leave the ground. Your job is not question orders, but to follow them to the letter."

Someone in the room snickered.

Everyone froze as the Head Drill Sergeant's head snapped to the side: pinpointing the guilty young teen. He strode forward and shouted into his face, "Do you think this is funny recruit? What is your name?"

"No Head Drill Sergeant. My name is Daniel Peterson," he squeaked.

"I can't hear you recruit! Did you say something?" shouted the Head Drill Sergeant, spittle flying from his mouth and his voice deafening. Lelouch grimaced in sympathy.

"No Head Drill Sergeant. My name is Daniel Peterson," he screamed back shrilly.

"If everyone here finds it so amusing," the Head Drill Sergeant turned away and glanced at the room, "drop to the ground and give me pushups."

Lelouch's arms quaked as he lowered his body and almost kissed the concrete floor with his forehead. Five push-ups were simple enough. Ten he could do. On the fifteenth, his arms began to buckle. 

Two military boots stopped in peripheral vision. "What sort of lazy excuse of a push-up is that? Tuck in your elbows; they're not chicken wings!"

Lelouch complied and focusing on forcing his elbows to stay parallel to his body, he almost cried out at the increased difficulty. He stared at the floor, he couldn't get back up. The boots tapped, and Lelouch, leaning from side to side, forced himself to rise. His arms and stomach burned in agony.

Thankfully, the Head Drill Sergeant turned away, and Lelouch keeping the man in his line of sight, collapsed on the floor. He should have done more push-ups at home. This was pure torture.

"Attention!"

Muted groans followed as they struggled to their feet. "Yes Head Drill Sergeant."

"Not fast enough. And I can't hear you. Back down on the ground, and hold push-up position." 

"Yes Head Drill Sergeant," they screamed. Quickly, they fell to the ground. Lelouch grimaced as his hand skid along the concrete floor and began to burn.

"Stand up."

This time, they didn't dally. Nobody wanted to push the Head Drill Sergeant. At least not yet. "Yes Head Drill Sergeant."

Already, Lelouch could feel his throat beginning to burn as the screaming took its toll. He had to remember to shout from his diaphragm if he didn't want to lose his voice within a day.

The Head Drill Sergeant gestured to the other Drill Sergeants. "You will wait for your platoon to be called and follow them to your barracks."

Lelouch waited as alpha, beta, gamma, and delta filtered out. Two female drill sergeants called kappa and phi. Finally, a slightly older man shouted, "Epsilon, follow me."

"Yes Drill Sergeant," Lelouch shouted obediently. He rushed after the man, who had already disappeared through the door. A maze of corridors later and the platoon finally arrived in the barracks marked with a large 'E.' Twenty something bunk beds in neat rows beckoned to Lelouch with the promise of sleep. Instead of succumbing to temptation, Lelouch lined up with the other recruits against the wall and held attention.

After the last soldier trickled in, the Drill Sergeant entered with the door shutting ominously behind him. "None of you are worthy to wear that uniform. You're slow, undisciplined, and stupid. It is my job to train you into something, but right now you are nothing. Do you understand you useless waste of space?"

"Yes Drill Sergeant."

He smiled and his eyes scanned the room and snagged a rifle out of a plump boy's hands. "This weapon is your life. You will clean it, cherish it, sleep with it. It will never leave your sight. Secondly, you will never walk alone anywhere, even to go to the bathroom. Two other waste of space will accompany you. Thirdly, you will not talk to each other. You have not earned that privilege yet."

The Drill Sergeant paused and smirked. "Lastly, I'm the absolute authority in this room. I am your Emperor now. You will show absolute loyalty to me, not your previous lord, me, and by extension, the rest of the military. You are now cogs in a greater machine."

The Drill Sergeant's eyes settled on a rifle leaning against the wall. Lelouch shivered as a small grotesque smile began to form. The head turned mechanically as he faced a young teen with a severe bout of acne. "Where is your rifle zit boy?"

Belligerent, the teen crossed his arms, causing his muscles to visibly flex and smirked, "By the wall sir."

A harsh strike whistled through the air, and the teen stumbled back, his cheek burning red. He raised his hands and brushed against his cheek in disbelief. "You discarded your weapon, discarded your life. All the rest of you pieces of trash, raise your rifles and hold it over your head."

"Yes Drill Sergeant."

The Drill Sergeant did not smile as he turned to the youth. "Now let's try this again Zit. You will call me Drill Sergeant and where should be your weapon be?"

"Against the wall," said the teen with a small smirk and Lelouch bit back a horrified groan as he cheekily added, "sir."

It wasn't a slap. Instead, the Drill Sergeant punched the teen in the gut. Lelouch’s stomach curled in dread as the teen looked up and spat at the Drill Sergeant. Lelouch’s arms burned in pain as the rifle began to feel heavier and heavier. The Drill Sergeant grabbed the teen by the collar and pulled him into a choke hold. The rest of the platoon, watched in muted horror.

"Pipsqueak, I didn't say to lower the rifle. Zit here, still needs to learn a lesson," shouted the Drill Sergeant to a tiny boy, who looked barely older than twelve. 

"Sorry Drill Sergeant." The boy straightened and repositioned the rifle above his head.

The teen, still caught in a choke hold, drew blood as he struggled to peel off the arm. Lelouch felt sick. If this was basic training, no wonder the troops had no moral qualms killing innocent civilians. It was a show to scare them into submission and beat out the last defiant streak within them after all their possessions had been taken away. The Drill Sergeant had said it himself, they were nothing, and this would continue until they believed him, and then the real training would start.

When the teen's struggles became sluggish, the Drill Sergeant finally released him. He looked utterly pathetic as he fell to the ground, gasping for air and massaging his throat. The Drill Sergeant leaned forward. "What do you say Zit?"

"I'm sorry Drill Sergeant. I can get my weapon now Drill Sergeant."

"Scram."

As the teen hurried to the wall to grab his weapon and return to the line, the Drill Sergeant began to pace the length of the room. "Respect me and we won't have any problems. I own you until the end of training. Remember, that I can kill any of you, should you fail to meet my expectations."

While the military did allow physical punishments, Lelouch knew that killing would not go unpunished. Three years ago, the Emperor had cast judgment on an officer who had abused his position and as a consequence of his actions, numerous privates died to unfortunate accidents. If killing through negligence resulted in a death sentence for a noble, then practically speaking, a lowly sergeant would not get away with murder. Of course, legally speaking, there was already a law that had been on the books since the creation of the Brittanian Army that forbid murder.

Something must have shown on his face for the Drill Sergeant stormed over to him. "You have something to say Toothpick?"

Perhaps he was too tired or maybe it was because he couldn't stand the abuse of authority, but it didn't matter what his reason was, for he opened his mouth and said, "Murder of any enlisted soldier or officer in the Britannian Army, is considered an act of treason against the Crown, regardless of position. Drill Sergeant."

Something undecipherable flashed through the man's eyes, before he turned around, and in a poor imitation of Lelouch's accent, said, "Looks like the toothpick here thinks he's smart. Everyone, get down on the ground, and give me some crunches."

"Yes Drill Sergeant!"

Lelouch moved to drop to the ground, when the Drill Sergeant barked, "Not you Toothpick. What is your name?"

Rick had definitely said something about not letting the Drill Sergeant learn his name if he wanted to survive. Lelouch was screwed, but he dutifully answered, "Lelouch Lamperouge, Drill Sergeant."

"So you think you're being funny?"

"No Drill Sergeant."

As everyone continued their assigned crunches while shooting glares at Lelouch, the Drill Sergeant towered over him. "So you think you know better than me?"

Yes. But Lelouch wasn't suicidal, nor did he want to land in the med bay because the Drill Sergeant decided to punish him. His mother, for some reason, agreed with his plan, but the second he proved himself incapable of defending himself or she thought his life was in danger, the facade would end. It was way too easy to imagine her storming into the base and tearing into the Drill Sergeant for endangering his life. For Nunnally's sake that could never happen.

"I am simply aware of the law as decreed by Emperor Michael li Britannia, Drill Sergeant."

The Drill Sergeant didn't reply immediately and Lelouch resisted the urge to fidget as his fellow recruits groaned in agony as they continued with their crunches. Finally the Drill Sergeant yelled into his ear, "Why did you join the army Toothpick if you wanted to become a lawyer instead?"

"To serve my country. Drill Sergeant." In a way it was true, the Emperor himself had told him to stand on his own feet. Nobody could disobey an order from the Emperor himself.

The slap struck him out of nowhere. "Don't lie to me Toothpick. You don't sell your soul for something meaningless like that." His gaze swept around the room and the other recruits flinched as he passed by them. "All of you attention! Never feed me such trash like joining the military out of a sense of duty. It insults my intelligence. Only spies say such bullshit. So Toothpick?"

"My family, Drill Sergeant."

Apparently that was enough, for the Drill Sergeant turned away and began to pace the room again, as if the entire incident had never happened. "You have ten minutes until lights-out at twenty-o-clock. And since you wasted so much of my time, no dinner tonight. I expect all of you to be up at five, no exceptions." The Drill Sergeant paused and pointed to three recruits. "You three. Come with me. You're on fireguard tonight."

Zit and Lelouch looked down at the floor as the room glared at them. Fortunately, none of them dared to voice any complaints, even after the Drill Sergeant left. The man was terrifying. Lelouch slipped into bed, his body already sore. It wasn't a good start, but things could only get better. He shut his eyes and let sleep claim him.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Tokyo, Area 11**

Nunnally heard her teacher’s distinctive heels strike the ground and folded her brother’s letter together. He had taken the time to punch holes in the paper to form the braille words and insure she could read it without help. The room quieted a couple of seconds afterwards, and the teacher walked briskly to the front of the class, stopping briefly to place a packet of papers on Nunnally's desk. As chalk scratched on the chalkboard, Nunnally let her fingers run across the algebra notes.

Reuben had insisted on accommodations to her delight. Some teachers, such as her math teacher Ms. Abequa, weren't thrilled and threw accusations of favoritism against her. After all, the real world wouldn't bend to assist her with her disability. It should be her own responsibility to take appropriate action, which felt wrong. She would work hard, but she just wanted the same chance to learn as everyone else. But blindness was too great of a weakness.

"Please pass up last night's homework," her teacher asked softly, almost too quiet to hear.

Bags rustled around her as numerous students begin to comply. The class had doubled in the past few months as more Britannians migrated to Tokyo and it was no longer just children that lived on the Ashford Estate. Last week, Sally Topaz, the daughter of baronet, had joined the class. It seemed that Reuben's dream was quite possible. At this rate, they would soon be split up into years.

Nunnally frowned and pulled her bag onto her desk. The bag smelled faintly of cherry blossoms, which soothed her nerves, as she dug into the bag again, hoping she had simply missed the paper. She was sure she had placed the homework there last evening. Turning to Allie, she asked, "Have you seen my homework?"

"You put it in your bag last night after dinner. Here, let me," Allie pulled the bag closer and began to ruffle through it. "That's strange. I could have sworn it was there."

Clacking heels approached and stopped before them. "Is there a problem misses?" 

"I can't find my homework Ms. Abequa. Give me a minute," said Nunnally. She grabbed the bag from Allie again and checked the side pockets. 

Her teacher humphed. "Instead of playing such a game Ms. Lamperouge, just admit that you're struggling with the course material."

Nunnally frowned. It had been difficult at first since Nunnally had to learn the Nemeth code from scratch to do her homework. She understood the material, yet the teacher treated her as if she was mentally impaired. Her homework had been perfect. Perhaps she had left it on the desk?

The class droned on with the teacher writing on the chalkboard and Nunnally flipping through sheets of papers, trying to find the corresponding braille passage, to the lecture. Ms. Abequa had a terrible habit of skipping back and forth. Occasionally, Allie would lean over and help her find the appropriate page. Her friend was slowly improving in her own skills with reading braille. Allie didn't pick it up as fast as Lelouch, who had gone from constantly pestering her and the tutor to translate, to reading her coursebooks over the weekend. 

The chalk clattered against the metal ridge beneath the chalkboard. Ms. Abequa pitched her voice slightly higher and said, "That is all for today. You have odd problems three through eighty-one due tomorrow. The advanced group will also complete problems one hundred and two through one hundred and thirteen. I want to see actual graphs. Not some hurried sketch. Use a ruler. Class dismissed."

Chairs screeched as they passed over the floor and a loud rumble and slight breeze passed Nunnally, as students ran outside the classroom. Allie sighed and helped her pack her bags. "It isn't fair for Ms. Abequa to make you draw graphs Nunnally. You can't even see them."

Nunnally stood up and straightened her skirt. "I can make them on the computer. There's one in the library I can use and Lord Ashford made it so it reads out loud what is on the screen. I can even talk into it."

"Doesn't that program misunderstand you all the time? You know I'll help you. In turn, you can help me with the French homework. Still don't understand why we have to learn that."

Shrugging, she walked outside of the classroom. "The E.U. speaks French and a lot of business work internationally. We'd probably have to learn Mandarin too if China was more open to trade."

Allie groaned and pulled her back as a pair of loud boys rushed by. "How can you always know so much?"

"Lelouch is smarter. He always learns faster than me," Nunanlly complained. It didn't matter how hard she worked, her brother would inevitably learn concepts faster. If he ever applied himself to one subject, instead of hopping to and fro like a rabbit coming out of its burrow for the first time, he could easily become an expert. The only thing she was ever better at was art and that was just because Lelouch had no interest.

"Older siblings are always smarter. But they get stupid first. Happened to Gwen too. Ma is always shouting at her for being lazy and forgetting to do the chores."

"I don't know Allie," she murmured. Lelouch was an insuperable mountain. He could never be defeated in a battle of wits... except Schneizel who she remembered always won in chess. They hadn't played against each other in years. She wondered who would win now.

Allie grabbed her hands. "You're super smart. I bet you'll have the best grades out of everyone. And then even Ms. Abequa would understand you're not bad at math. You help me with my homework all the time."

"As if," scoffed a new voice. Sally Topaz. Nunnally knew of her, but they had never personally interacted. "She's just a stupid blind peasant girl. And you're no better. Is it true that your sister writes for the gossip rag? I heard your parents shovel manure."

Allie didn't respond and Nunnally winced as Allie squeezed her hand tightly. 

Stepping forward, Nunnally glared at where she had heard Sally speak. "Take that back! Gwen doesn't write for a gossip rag."

"But it's the truth. But what would you even know about it, you can't even read. Just a blind girl charity case. You're pathetic."

In the past, the confrontation would have continued as such: Nunnally would cry and run to Lelouch. Lelouch would say just the right things to comfort her and she would forget the entire incident happened. Lelouch would then go behind her back and take revenge. A little while later, the guilty party would crumble and apologize to Nunnally. 

This had been the case for as long as she could remember, the only problem? Lelouch was halfway around the globe. 

Sally walked forward and shoved into her. "Nothing to say? You must be a blight on your family."

Nunnally took a deep breath to calm herself. A very faint scent of cherry blossoms clung to Sally's otherwise, minty clothes. Nunnally had left her bag unattended, her homework had been missing. Anger surged within her and she pushed Sally back, her hands brushing past the girl's smooth hair, laden with product. 

In disbelief, Nunnally shook her head. There was definitely the scent of cherry blossoms. Who knew perfume could be such a safeguard against theft. "You stole my homework."

"Get your filthy hands off of me." The girl smacked her hands away. "How dare you touch me? I should have you arrested for assault."

Nunnally could feel Allie moving closer, ready to back her up or pull her out of danger. But Sally had gone too far. She had first insulted her best friend, then Gwen and indirectly Lelouch, and had dared to steal her homework in order to humiliate her. "But I was not the one who resorted to petty theft. Is it a family skill? Thievery?"

"You dare!" Sally hissed. "My uniform is custom fitted, while yours hangs around you like a rag. I doubt you'll ever afford something as nice as this. Not that you can notice it of course."

The sleeve had felt too rough to be silk. Nunnally had worn nicer. It was pitiful how desperate Sally was. "Well I can understand why you stole my homework now. Jealous of the paper? It is a much tighter weave than the shirt of yours."

Allie tugged on her arm and hissed, "Lets go Nunnally."

Perhaps she was going too far? But Sally had called the newspaper a gossip rag. Her brother had helped write those articles. They weren't bad, even though they sounded rather dull. No. Such a slight could not be ignored, yet she had already won this skirmish. Retreating now would be a wise decision. 

She smiled and, using the same tone her mother used when promising a slow and painful death, she said, "Thank you for volunteering to turn my homework in. I'm sure Ms. Abequa will be thrilled. Unfortunately, and I must express my sincere condolences, I have better things to do."

Before Sally had even time to comprehend, Nunnally hoisted her bag on her shoulder and walked briskly past her. Revenge was a dish best served cold. Lelouch had mastered the art, it was time she learned it and perfected it.

Allie shivered. "Never, ever, do that again. That was absolutely terrifying hearing you sound like a noble."

Right... She was supposed to blend in, but still, perhaps it was time to start Operation: “Make Allie comfortable Around Nobles (and Royalty).” She refused to lose her best friend again to some silly belief. Smiling, she teased, "I guess you don't want to know what I'm planning?"

Allie sighed. "By Napoleon's guillotine, I hate you. Of course I do."

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

The first two weeks had passed in a painful blur for Lelouch. His head would barely touch the pillow, before the Drill Sergeant roused them again. He had blisters on hands and feet while his eyes itched from fatigue. To make matters worse, the Drill Sergeant continued to pick on him and Lelouch could feel the glares from the other platoon members whenever they were punished for his own inability to perform to expectations. 

There were only two other people who seemed to have it worse: Zit and Pipsqueak. Pipsqueak was a whole two heads shorter than Lelouch and as Lelouch glanced at him sitting across the aisle in the bus, he had to wonder if the boy had also lied about his age. While he had a hard look in his eye and was always hyper aware of his surroundings, there was an air of vulnerability to him. Pipsqueak was perhaps the only other member in the platoon who didn't hate Lelouch despite having never exchanged a word.

The bus lurched to a stop and Lelouch glanced out at the fresh powder snow on tree tops reflecting the sunlight peeking over the hills. It was beautiful, but they didn't have time to admire the sight as the Drill Sergeant yelled and the platoon scrambled outside into the freezing morning air. The Drill Sergeant smiled and Lelouch's stomach tightened. He had a suspicion that he wouldn't like the upcoming drill. 

"Welcome to land nav and wilderness survival rodents. As you may have noticed, we are a two hour and a half drive from base. Now you could follow the road back, but I doubt you'll get very far without the proper gear. You will split up into squads as stated in the briefing packet I handed out earlier. Every squad will have a flare gun for life threatening emergency. To pass, you must return to base with all your squad members."

The Drill Sergeant paused and looked at each one of them shivering in the cold as they held attention, before continuing, "Either return as a group or don't return at all. Understood?"

"Yes Drill Sergeant," they chorused.

Smiling, the Drill Sergeant turned around. "Search parties will be sent out if you haven't returned by the third day." He left.

Lelouch pulled out the beige envelope and his cold stiff fingers struggled to unseal it. Winters were dangerous and fresh powdered snow was even more so. While the snow had been cleared on the streets and packed down on the side, out in the forest they could quickly fall into small cavities as the snow melted around trees. It would be easy to die.

The envelope contained a simple piece of paper listing six names: Lelouch Lamperouge, Alex Doe, Roy Fadiman, Henry Sullivan, Frederick Elric, and Edgar Gray.

Lelouch looked up. He had no idea who they were. Feeling foolish, he shouted, "Alex Doe!"

Pipsqueak's head darted up and he rushed forward. "We're in'a group Toothpick?"

"Yes," Lelouch held out his hand. "I'm Lelouch."

The boy shook it after a slight hesitation. "Nice ta meet ya. Please tell me we got one of the strong ones. I don't wanna die."

"Roy Fadiman."

An older teen, who the Drill Sergeant called Shampoo for some unfathomable reason that Lelouch could not grasp, looked up and scowled: Roy stared at them as he stood tall, seemingly waiting for something. The seconds ticked by and Lelouch wondered if perhaps he should call out the name again because there had been a mistake. 

Finally he lumbered over, clutching a thick envelope. He stopped and delivered an almost impressive glare. "Why didn't you come over? I'm the squad leader."

Alex shrugged. "We're already over here. Besides, who made ya the leader."

Roy growled and thrust the packet against Alex's chest. "This does," Roy turned to Lelouch and snatched the list out of his hand. "Give me this. Don't need an idiot like you messing things up."

Other people began to slowly shout names and Lelouch resisted the urge to sigh. With thirty-six people in the platoon, it would take forever to find their squad members now. And they were losing precious time, but Roy was bigger, stronger, and already called out the next name. "Henry Sullivan!"

Predictably no one responded. It was impossible to hear where anyone was shouting from. Annoyed, Lelouch grabbed Roy's packet, still held by a frozen Alex who stared at Roy in disbelief. Inside the packet he found a map with various locations marked. A subsequent paper listed the supplies at each location. It would be a detour to get them, but without the supplies, they would surely succumb to frostbite before returning to the base. A small pencil and compass rattled in the envelope.

Lelouch knelt down on the ground and spread out the map as Roy once again called out, "Henry Sullivan!"

Alex peered over his shoulder as Lelouch traced the road on the map and glanced around for any important landmarks. He barely knew anything about land navigation, but knowing where they were would probably be a good place to start.

Snow crunched down as a lanky teen approached and waved hesitantly. "You said Sullivan right? Nice to meet you, I'm Henry."

Roy puffed out his chest. "I'm the squad leader. Wait until I find everyone else."

Lelouch nodded at Henry who seemed nice enough, but he couldn't remember anything particular about him. Henry didn't seem very noteworthy so he turned back to the map. On the ride away, they had driven over a bridge, approximately twenty or so minutes out. He hadn't been able to tell how fast they were going, but assuming a maximum speed of sixty miles per hour, that severely restricted the area they could be along the road. His finger settled on the bridge victoriously.

"Frederick Elric!" Roy shouted.

Two boys approaching laughed and the taller one of them rubbed his head sheepishly, before saying. "I'm Frederick. Me and Edgar recognized Lelouch there from the first day. Figured we'd save you the trouble and come over ourselves."

Roy looked like he swallowed a lemon and turned around his eyes narrowing at Lelouch. "Who gave you permission to touch my stuff!"

Alex squeaked while Frederick held up his hands and said, "Chill man. I'm sure he’s got a reason."

As if he ever would do something without one. Lelouch smiled politely. "I'm just trying to narrow down where we are." He gestured to the map and circled an area. "We drove over a bridge, so we must be somewhere in this vicinity."

Edgar leaned down and rotated the map, before setting the compass down and using a pencil to draw a thin line and repeated the action. "I'm surprised you remembered that. But there's an easier way. And you are right, but we are here." 

His finger rested at the intersection victoriously. 

"Fine," said Roy, still looking sour. He pointed at the closest marked supply point. "Let's go."

Lelouch shook his head and pointed to one in the opposite direction without any nearby points. It was an isolated supply station. "We need proper supplies. This one has snow shoes and sleeping bags. We're not going to get back before nightfall, so we will need them. And the snow shoes will increase our speed. None of the other supply stations have sleeping bags, I checked."

"How did you know that?"

Lelouch rolled his eyes and passed the supply sheet. "I read the list."

Roy humphed. "We're not going there. That one has food and we're not going to starve to get something as stupid as snowshoes."

Surprisingly, it was Alex who came to Lelouch's defense, despite visibly trembling in fear. "I agree with Toothpick, I mean Lelouch. We've eaten plenty of food at base. I'd rather be hungry than freeze to death. It gets real cold in the winter."

Edgar nodded and looked at the slowly rising sun. "Live further North, but those clouds look rather dark. Maybe it won't snow tonight, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. If we're going to be snowed in, we should at least have the sleeping bags."

Seeing Roy's angry look, Frederick held his hands up again. "What about a vote?"

"You some sort of French nitwit, voting?" said Roy. He glanced at the assembled group, and seeing only Henry seeming to agree with him, he growled, "Fine. We'll do a stupid bloody vote. Want to parleyvous next?"

Lelouch sighed and held up his hand. "Snow shoes and sleeping bags?"

Edgar and Alex raised their hands quickly and Frederick after a moment of hesitation joined them. Outnumbered and met with the possible threat of mutiny, Roy folded and passed the map to Edgar so he could lead the way. Lelouch too a moment to observe the other groups slowly getting ready to either follow the road despite the Drill Sergeant's warnings or head to the closest supply station. 

There was another reason to head in the opposite direction and plot their own unique course from the crowd. Lelouch scanned the tree lines and caught sight of something metal reflecting the morning sun in the trees. A camera. Every action was being recorded and judged.

Up ahead, Alex took a step off the road and squeaked as the snow collapsed beneath his feet and the lower half of his legs disappeared. With a wary glance at the deceptively level surface of snow, Lelouch walked off the path and followed. Their arduous, cold, and wet journey began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
\- Anya is apparently 15 in R2... How long did Marianne use her body? It's so creepy now that I'm thinking about it...  
\- There are two strange symbols that show up all the time on uniforms. One is generally on military uniforms and also on the Ashford Academy uniform. Don't know what it is, but I'm making it a symbol of Britannia. The other symbol I think if for police officers, but not sure.  
\- Britannians really hate the French, but that doesn't stop people from doing business. 
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone!
> 
> Had a couple errors in the previous chapter which I fixed. Next chapter is on Sunday, for makeup update #2.


	12. In Search of the North Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Hear the Dogs Howl

_ The first rule of winter warfare is to not engage in winter warfare. The advantage will always lie with the entrenched army and if one has adequate supply chains, it would be best to wait for the snow to thaw. Victory will in the end be granted to whichever side has better logistics and shelter. Unfortunately, when combining winter warfare with insurgency groups, Britannia is left at a great military disadvantage. _

_ Snow and ice provides a unique challenge for warfare. Freezing temperatures limit equipment use and cause weapons to jam and renders many explosives useless. Additionally, many soldiers suffer from blindness and hallucinations brought on by a never ending white landscape. It is all too common, even with a compass, for troops to become disorientated. To make matters worse, fresh soldiers often do not recognize symptoms of dehydration and sunburn which leads to various fatalities in addition to frostbite... _

_ —On Winter Warfare by Lelouch Lamperouge (2016)_

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

It took Lelouch and his squad a solid two hours to arrive at the supply station: a small little shack lined with shelves and barely any room to turn around. By then, they had been cold, hungry, and utterly exhausted. To Lelouch, it was obvious that they would never be able to return to base within the allotted time if they continued at the same rate. Snow shoes would help, but something even more drastic would have to change. 

Alex squeezed past Lelouch and opened a small bucket. "Got some bread here. So we're not gonna starve or anything."

"That's good," mumbled Lelouch as he looked at the supplies. There were the snowshoes and sleeping bags as expected. Enough for two squadrons, which raised a worrisome question. Did the supply stations not have enough supplies for every squad? He frowned and glanced at the wooden shelves. "How do you guys feel about cheating?"

Frederick, standing outside of the shack, looked at him suspiciously. "There are no rules, but it isn't like there's anything to cheat with. Unless you've managed to smuggle a phone here and want to call a ride?"

Scowling, Roy pulled him out of the shed. "Now you stupid French bargain knock off, listen here. I'm not going to let you mar my service record with any freaking shenanigans that you may think off. We're doing this properly and by the books. It's my family's honor that is at stake although it's obvious that yours has none. Probably think you're all important as a bastard born brat, but it just means," Roy's hot stinking breath hit him in the face, "that your family is honorless scum."

"For the sake of your own health, I suggest you never repeat that." Lelouch might not be on speaking terms with his family, but he refused to have anyone slander them and by extension Nunnally. 

"And what are you gonna do? You're too weak to even climb up a rope." He smirked. "Gonna hit me? I'm so scared."

Lelouch pushed down a vicious grin. It would be incredibly satisfying to finally open a letter from his mother and share the slanderous insults with her. Roy and his family burn. His mother was not the forgiving sort. Nobody would ever trace it back to Lelouch, but that meant relying on his parents. He would never forgive them.

"No. It's just a warning. If you ever insult my sister again, I'll make sure that your life is absolutely miserable. But don't worry, I won't kill you, that would be too easy, barely a challenge." He locked eyes with Roy and refused to look away.

"Relax guys," said Frederick and his hands settled on both of their shoulders. "No insulting another. No death threats or whatever that was. Let's hear Lelouch's idea and then we'll strap on some snowshoes and stop wasting daylight."

Lelouch stepped back and composed himself. "We can take the wooden shelves and use the rope to construct a sled. Then we don't need to carry everything ourselves and, if it's big enough, we can take turns resting on the sled, so we can walk for longer. Otherwise, even with the snow shoes, we'll be lucky to arrive back at camp on time."

Frederick nodded and shouted, "Hey Edgar! You said you saw some matches right?"

Confused, Lelouch took a small step back to let the apparent experts talk.

Edgar, from within the shack, shouted, "Yeah Fred! There aren't a lot, so we'll have to make sure we get it right the first time if you want a fire for the night. Also got some trash bags here. Give me a sec to grab everything." 

Edgar stepped outside with long planks under his arm and dragging a full trash bag behind him. He lay down the planks and grabbed a piece of rope and tied them together firmly, with Frederick stepping in to help. Alex made a small sound of comprehension and scurried off, returning with small pine tree branches and holding them up proudly. Roy, Leouch, and Henry stared at them in befuddlement.

Clapping his hands, Edgar stepped back. "Well we've got a sled, and some fire starters. Alex, why don't you take the first ride. You can peel the wood so it's somewhat dry for this evening. I'll lead again." He glanced at Roy for confirmation and a big grin split his face. "Oh, you sweet naive city kids. But don't worry, we'll save you."

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally held her cane tightly as she waited for Milly to skip out of the library. Since their brief stay at the labs, Nunnally had barely any time to catch up with the older girl, but now she had the perfect opportunity to integrate Milly within the school and give Allie the chance to see that not all nobles were evil. She crossed her fingers as she heard Milly's voice, but then frowned, she wasn't skipping. Milly always skipped, but instead, her feet almost dragged, as if she was dour.

"Lady Ashford," she called out.

Milly stopped. "Nunnally? What are you doing?" She hurried over and pulled her against the stone wall. "Grandpa said we're supposed to act like we don't know each other. Because you're trying to hide as a commoner?"

Bristling under her chastising, Nunnally said, "Why do you think I called you Lady Ashford?"

"You don't understand. Grandpa is totally paranoid about your safety. He has three redundant camera systems. He's going to be so mad at me."

Nunnally frowned. "You're... like an older sister to me and Lelouch. And there's nothing stopping us from becoming friends publicly. You love making friends."

"But,"

"We can make a council. A party council. Then we have an excuse to meet and no one will blink an eye. We'll plan big parties and then you can be happy again."

"How did you? You can't even see me."

Nunnally sniffed. "You weren't skipping. You skip everywhere. Now enough about that. We need new recruits for our student party council. Allie is going to complain, but we're grabbing her because she's my best friend and I need my sister and best friend to get along. Just don't let Sally join."

"Like I would let her. She is so annoying. Just because we're both nobility, she thinks we should be friends. I don't like suck ups. But if we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly. That means budgeting, getting people excited, attaining all the supplies, and I'll oversee everything," said Milly, getting louder and more excited. Finishing, she pulled Nunnally into an enthusiastic hug. "This is going to be awesome!"

Thinking out loud, Nunnally said, "I can balance the budget and Allie can help me, but her sister writes for the local newspaper, so I'm sure she could handle public relations, you can be the school's President, but I don't know anyone who knows enough to go shopping for all the fancy stuff you'll want."

Milly stepped back and tapped her foot, deep in thought, then said, "We have a new student enrolling next week, Rizel Donoso or something. Not quite sure, but his family runs a large law firm in Britannia. I guess I'll interview for the role of secretary when he arrives." Grabbing Nunnally's arm gently, "Now you mentioned a new best friend. I've got to meet her."

“You will, just be patient for a little while,” Nunnally promised. She would introduce her best friend and Milly to each other slowly. It wouldn’t do for Allie to be scared away.

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch stripped the bark from the branch with the pocket knife. The makeshift sled had turned out to be a brilliant idea although their detour had cost them dearly. The closest supply shack with proper food had been empty, raided by the previous squadrons that had arrived. Not willing to let their journey be a complete waste, they had used the shelves to construct an additional sled which Frederick was currently using to sleep on. 

Despite the minor hiccup and their empty stomachs, they were making good progress and the sun was still high in the sky. They had even found fresh tracks from other squads although Edgar believed they were heading in the wrong direction. Hopefully, Edgar was right, because otherwise, Lelouch and his squad were heading in the wrong direction. Still, Edgar had found two shacks already, so Lelouch conceded that the boy probably knew what he was doing. 

Alex finished a hushed conversation with Edgar and fell back to walk besides the sled, "You could talk less fancy ya know. The Drill Sergeant always gets mad when ya do."

"It's my accent," Lelouch huffed. "It doesn't change overnight and I've talked like this for ages."

"Really? How d'ya know all that stuff. Like laws, first aid and such? Your really lucky."

"My mother insisted that I learned first aid," said Lelouch and he looked up at the tall fir trees. He had made sure to learn as much as he could after the attempted assassination. It was a useful skill. "And for the other stuff, I just read."

Alex looked at him with a mix of longing and jealousy, before he tore his eyes down and kicked up some snow. "Lucky. You had some tutors teach ya?"

"I used to memorize all the stories my mother read to me and then, well, the letters just began making sense. I barely remember a time when I couldn't read. I taught my sister as well, although she never wanted to sit still long enough to actually learn." Not until after the loss of her sight, where she and Lelocuh would spend hours together, fingers traversing small raised dots on a page and trying to decipher the secret code.

Lelouch paused, and glanced at Alex, little pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Softly, he said, "You don't know how to read."

"No," Alex looked away, "Of course I can read... I'm not a baby. I'm just... really slow. It's not that important. Only rich folks need ta read."

Lelouch frowned. "What about a trade? You tell me why you joined the army and I'll teach you how to read?"

"That doesn't seem quite fair," Alex stared at him suspiciously. "What are ya getting out of it?"

"A favor."

"A favor?"

"I know most of my squadron hates me. They'll never help me if I need it. I help you now, and one day, when I need it, you'll help me as well," Lelouch explained. Of course Alex didn't need to know that Lelouch would never rely on someone else to solve his problems. Favors were tricky things after all and a debt of obligation was never a binding promise. Especially when one had something to gain.

"Fine. The coppers got to me. Didn't do much, but must've pissed someone off. Gotta pay'm back through labor and I know ta never get in one of those contracts, ind—, ind— well something. Ya know what I mean?"

Indenture. A contract where a person exchanged goods or debts for human labor. To Lelouch, he did not see much of a difference between such a contract and enlisting. Both had minimum time to serve, offered pay, and severely restricted one’s freedoms. Both were a form of slavery, just to different masters. Lelouch set the mostly dry stick aside and grabbed another to peel. "Why the military?"

"Like ya said on the first day," said Alex, not a trace of a smile on his face, "we serve the Emperor now. We're his men and an attack on us is an attack on him. But with a contract, you gotta trust them. No copper is eva gonna listen ta ya complain." A shudder ran down Alex's spin, all too visible. "It's safe out here. Safe from her. She canna do anything now."

Feeling as if he had intruded on an intensely private moment, Lelouch looked away. Wasn't he also in the military for his own safety? To pay off the debt that he owed and finally be free? Whoever would have thought that a prince and a lying, thieving, street rat would ever have something in common. A dark chuckle escaped him.

Lelouch scattered some snow on the wooden beam and traced out the letter "A." The sled jerked as Roy failed to notice a protruding rock. Lelouch focused on his new student. "Your lessons begin now."

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11**

Tohdoh hated the new Tokyo. Britannia's rebuilding efforts were well under way, but the iconic and distinctive buildings were slowly fading away as sharp and imperial silhouettes rose to replace them. But he may have been able to swallow such sacrilege, if it weren't for how his fellow country men who would trudge through the streets and smile at the Britannians as they haggled over goods. Did they have no pride?

"General, you sure this is the place?" asked the newly promoted Lieutenant General Iki for valiant service at the Battle of Narita.

General wasn't a title Tphdoh felt he deserved, but with General Katase dead and no one else to call the shots, his men had thrust the title upon him. To them it was an honor. To Tohdoh, it was a reminder. Japan was gone. "Don't call me that in public. And yes."

Tohdoh knelt down on the freshly paved street and stared at the small shrine. Various little tokens, delicately placed, riddled the shrine. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for trash. But with the war having taken everything, people made do to mourn the dead or safely guide loved ones home. His heart thundered as he methodically searched the small shrine. There, at long last, on a freshly cut twig, was a pink envelope. Nagisa was alive. Ko was alive. Suzaku was alive. 

His hands trembled as he grabbed the envelope and saw the small address written inside. Lieutenant General Iki said nothing as Tohdoh stood up and glanced at the street signs, written in English of course. The soldier understood. And that was enough for Tohdoh.

The small apartment building peppered with holes and looking vaguely skewed did nothing to dampen Tohdoh's excitement as he arrived. He could hear the faint sound of a small child wailing. It was familiar. A faint of spice hung in the air and his stomach growled. He stepped inside the building and followed his beautiful, sweet, and precious son's cries.

Beneath his feet, the stairs creaked and groaned joyously. It was the victory cry for his return. 

A small head poked out of the door and familiar brown eyes widened as they caught sight of him. She pulled back. "Suzaku, hold Ko for a minute will you. No! Not like that. And don't give him that." 

Ko let out a piercing scream. 

"Yes I know you think they're pretty. But you're allergic to them. And Suzaku! Stop letting him grab the pine cone!"

The door opened and he drank in her beautiful disorganized brown hair and shadowed grey eyes. Despite the weary lines and patched clothes, she looked like a goddess. He stepped forward, leaving Lieutenant General Iki standing awkwardly at the edge of the stairs. His legs shook. "Nagisa. I'm home."

A small cry of happiness and his wife flung herself forward and borrowed her head into his neck. "Kyoshiro. You're alive."

He hugged her and inhaled the wooden scent mixed with the faint dash of cinnamon. She was alive. Tears threatened to leak out of his eyes. He pressed a chaste kiss on top of her head. "I missed you."

Nagisa took a step back and looked up at him, before wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Surprised, but pleased, he pushed forward, his hand running down her back. It had been too long. How he had missed his beautiful wife.

"Tohdoh-sensei?"

He froze and stepped back. His student, holding his little son, stood in the doorway. "Hello Suzaku-kun. It's good to see you."

Lieutenant General Iki coughed to draw his attention. "I have a cousin I want to check on. I will see you tomorrow General." He winked. "Have fun."

"Very well." Tohdoh turned back to his family and plucked little Ko from Suzaku's arms. "Look who's back. It's your Daddy."

Ko's face scrunched and he turned to look at Nagisa. Then he looked back at Tohdoh and began to cry.

"Shh," Tohdoh whispered and tried to rock the baby. "It's just Daddy. Don't you recognize me?"

Ko cried louder.

"Please Ko?"

Nagisa sighed and gently lifted their son out of his arms. Once safe in his mother's arms, Ko immediately fell silent. She smiled up at him and patted his arms. "He just needs to get used to you again. Why don't you come inside?"

"Oba-san, I was going to head out the market?"

Tohdoh caught the slight furrow in her eyebrows indicating she wasn't pleased, yet she pleasantly said, "Be sure to be back in time for dinner Suzaku."

"I will!" He looked at them both before sprinting over to Tohdoh and giving a tight hug. "I'm happy you're alright. See you later."

Then he was off, leaping down the stairs two at a time. The ground shook.

Tohdoh let himself be lead into the small barren apartment. A few homely touches were added in the corner from little origami cranes and small carved wooden cats. A calligraphy brush and a faded receipt lay on the table. It was nothing like their old quarters. It was nothing like Japan. But it was home. 

Walking carefully through the room and inspecting the worn futons and blankets, he asked, "So where is Suzaku going?"

Tightly, she said, "I don't know."

"You're upset with him. Why?" 

Frowning, she set Ko down on the futon, and straightened her skirt. "He doesn't tell me. But he always comes back with food and I know that it's too expensive for what he says he's paying for it. And while he helps around the compound, there's no way the spare change he earns is enough."

"You think it's crime?" He thought Suzaku would have known better, but the invasion had changed everyone. A young impressionable kid like Suzaku could easily be swayed to violence, especially against Britannia. "I'll talk to him. It's dangerous."

Nagisa grabbed his hand and shook her head. "Suzaku has too much of a respect for the law. His father raised him right you know." She dropped his hand and looked out of the window. "We need the money. I shouldn't have said anything."

Realization dawned on him slowly as he watched her hunched shoulders. Suzaku would follow the law. And without crime, there was only one way to obtain money legally. Furiously, he stepped beside her and stared into her face. "He's lowering himself to those Britannians?"

Her eyes were wide. Fearful. And Tohdoh took a step back with a deep calming breath. Massaging his temple, he said, "Forgive me Nagisa. This isn't fair to you."

She looked back out the window. "It used to be so busy here. There was a club around the corner where I went clubbing with some friends in high school. But now, there are only beggars that wander the street and invaders. There's nothing left of us. I guess, even though I hate it, Suzaku understands that. And can I begrudge him for doing what it takes to survive? So Ko survives?"

"We're still here Nagisa. There's still hope." He wrapped his arms around her and took comfort in her warm presence as the cold wind tugged on their clothes. "We'll liberate Japan. It won't always be like this."

"How can you say that Kyoshiro? We've got nothing." She pointed her hand out of the window at the crumbling high rise a couple blocks away. "The Brits are everywhere. Our army is dead. General Katase is dead. They took his head. Didn't have the decency to even burn his body, the bastards. And if we do anything, they'll just use their knightmares. We have nothing."

He rubbed her back gently and leaned in closer. "I'm still alive. I've got a couple thousand men and soldiers hiding in Narita. Training. And we salvaged the knightmares the Brits left behind. Soon, we'll have our own. But in the meanwhile, our numbers will continue to grow."

She shook her head. "And then what? How are you going to free Japan when they've begun to nest and multiply? And when they bring their army down on our heads? And raze our lands once more? Or have you forgotten Kagoshima?" 

Tohdoh pulled away. He had known people stationed along the coast in preparation for the attack. It had caught them by complete surprise and now, they were all dead. But like he had a duty to his family, he had a duty to Japan and the men who had placed their trust in him. "We'll build our strength for a few years. Learn how Britannia will act. But there is no reason to fight honorably when the enemy has none. Britannia used our own people as shields, so we'll use theirs as well. We won't be like a tsunami, crashing and obliterating them. Instead we'll be the steady trickle of water seeping deep into a rock, hidden, until we split it from the inside."

Weary eyes stared at him and begged for complete honesty. "Will you succeed?"

Yes. Maybe in a decade. Or maybe when he was dead and his son took up the fight. But eventually, they would succeed. Water could not be stopped. "The sun will rise on Japan once more Nagisa."

Nagisa closed her eyes and her eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What about us? Ko and Suzaku?"

His heart sank. If it hadn't been for Ko, she would have joined him. He knew she would follow him, but her son, was of course a priority. Ideally, he should leave her. Let her be safe when the news eventually reached Britannia that Kyoshiro Tohdoh was leading a resistance movement. But he wanted to be selfish so badly. 

Staring at the floor, he said, "If you want. I can travel between here and Narita. I'll drop by every couple months. I'll be there for you, Ko, and Suzaku."

There was no mercy in her gaze. "And what do _ you _ want Kyoshiro Tohdoh?"

"It doesn't matter what I want. I have a duty, an obligation, to my men." He looked up: unapologetic. "If you think it's best, I'll leave. Burn every picture I have. No one will ever know we're married and you'll be safe. Ko and Suzaku will be safe."

Ko gurgled as he rolled off the futon and Nagisa sighed. Not responding, she picked Ko up and hugged him. "You don't even know your daddy."

Tohdoh winced. He had been gone for so long. He should have returned sooner.

"We promised to always do right for Ko." Nagisa slowly shifted Ko into his arms. Her eyes looked at him with love. "Ko needs a father. You're not going off on your own."

Ko grabbed his finger firmly and Tohdoh couldn't suppress the small smile as his son stared at him with wide, curious eyes. He glanced back at Nagisa who stood resolutely and blurted, "I love you... But I have a duty to Japan. I'll visit as often as I can."

Pushing a finger against his lips, she leaned in closer and said, "You misunderstand. I vowed to defend Japan too. I will help you."

His beautiful delightful goddess. What had he done to deserve her? "Why?"

She leaned against his chest. "Because I'm afraid Tohdoh. Of death too, but what will follow, more. I'm afraid of you being snatched away and seeing your limp body fall to the ground. I'm afraid of Suzaku following honeyed promises into the lion's den. And I'm afraid of Ko growing old and never knowing a world of freedom. I'm afraid that he will believe the Britannians to be superior. And when that happens, we will have truly lost."

"We'll fight together as husband and wife. A family." He looked down at Ko whose eyes were beginning to droop. Whispering into her ear, "Do you think we should put him to bed? He looks like he's going to nod off any second."

Nagisa smiled softly and gently placed him back on the futon. Ko blinked wearily and closed his eyes. “He loves to crawl you know. It’s such a hassle keeping an eye on him. Got all of your energy.”

Tohdoh leaned against his wife as they observed Ko falling asleep. “Did he say mama yet?”

“Not yet. Maybe have some competition now.”

“Never,” Tohdoh massaged her shoulders. “He hardly knows me. You should relax. Let me prep dinner today.”

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch leaned forward as he dragged the sled up the small hill. Edgar snored faintly as he slept on the sled besides Alex. Faint light from their makeshift torches danced through the forest and cast long flickering shadows. The darkness hungered for them, but they continued. If they wanted to be back on time, they would not be able to sleep through the night. Instead, they took turns and constantly marched forward.

The wind whispered and wolves howled in the distance. In the shadows, he could see small creatures moving and occasionally something larger. The thought of yellow eyes reflecting the light of the fire terrified him. A battle between him and a wolf, would result in one clear loser: Lelouch. The rifles were equipped with blanks, useless in a fight, but perhaps enough to scare off any hungry wildlife?

Frederick groaned as his torch sputtered out in a sudden swift breeze. "Why can't we just make camp?"

"You want to tell Roy why we didn't get any food at the next supply station? Because if we don't make up the lost time, that's what will happen."

Frederick shook his head and the snow crunched as he walked past Roy and Henry sleeping on his sled. Leaning down, he struck a match and re-lit the torch. "No. The wind is getting stronger too. How much further till the supply station?"

Letting go of the rope, Lelouch sat down beneath the torch and pulled out the map. Everything looked the same and he didn't have Edgar's skill or experience with reading maps. The small dot labeled as the supply center stared at him mockingly.

"Lelouch?"

They were probably not lost, simply because Lelouch had been checking the compass diligently to make sure they were heading in a straight line. That didn't sound like a reassuring answer, so Lelouch stared back at the map, searching for a clue. They were heading uphill and the forest was beginning to thin. The map held its secrets.

Relenting, he finally said, "Not entirely sure."

Frederick cursed quietly and trudged over to snatch the map out his hands. "You're absolutely hopeless. And somehow you can do the math to figure out where we are, but reading a simply bloody map, is beyond you."

"My apologies."

Frederick rubbed his eyes. "No. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just like the bastard to throw us out here with no training. Not like anyone taught us this. You'd think he wants us dead." He lay the map flat on the ground and stared at the faint moon, partially obscured by the clouds. "Why does it have to be so bloody dark. Can't see shit. What's the time Lelouch?"

"Yeah? Three in the morning." Lelouch looked at Frederick's finger pointing at their last known location.

"It's about seven miles from where we started to the next station. And if we traveled in a straight line... Well do your magic!"

Deciding to ignore Frederick's ignorance, Lelouch pondered how fast they had been traveling. Their shift had started shortly after midnight and they had traveled at a relatively steady pace. "Frederick. I need you to pull the sled forward, like you normally do."

Frederick shook his head, but decided to humor him. The sled began to move and Frederick grunted as he slowly moved forward. _ One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.... Seventeen Mississippi. _ "You just gonna watch me Toothpick, or do some actual magic."

Just once, he had shown them something they didn't grasp. And now, he was expected to produce similar results on the fly, despite the conditions not being the same at all. It was baffling. "One to two miles left."

"You were closer the last time," said Frderick and Lelouch could feel the heat of his glare.

"Last time we were in a bus. On a road… with a speed limit. That was easy."

Skeptical, Frederick said, "Sure. Doesn't make any sense how you did it the first time."

Brushing his gloved hand against his nose, Lelouch groaned, "Forget it."

Perhaps Reuben hadn't dumped all the tax returns and monetary assets on his desk for no reason. Frederick wasn't an idiot, but without a proper education or necessary training, what was simple math to Lelouch, could very well be mind blowing to Frederick. It also raised a more worrying concern about Britannia. If the majority of commoners had similar numeracy skill, it boded ill for Britannia's ability to innovate. Ashford Academy might not just be an opportunity, but a bandage on a gushing wound.

Troubled, Lelouch put more effort into dragging the sled. He shouldn't care. Britannia had destroyed Japan. His mother had been willing to kill Suzaku for being Japanese. His father had no concept of mercy. They should all burn. But...

Rick. 

Gwen.

Allie.

Did they deserve the suffering that would follow from Britannia's destruction?

* * *

**Paris, E.U.**

The room swayed around Marianne and she could feel the walls creeping in closer. She should call for Bismark who was standing dutifully outside her door, ready to burst in if there was any indication of trouble like two days ago when a serving boy had attempted to assassinate her. Of course the E.U. profusely apologized and claimed that he had been acting on his own volition. That perhaps he was friends with one of the refugees. Did they think she was an idiot?

Massaging her head, Marianne waited for the room to still. Guiding the wheel chair next to her bed, she lowered the arm rest and slowly pushed her body out of the wheel chair and into the bed. Charles would be upset that she ignored her health. On the other hand, he shouldn't have left her in the E.U. for almost half a year. She was dying to get home and Lelouch was still not answering her letters.

Her eyes traced the wobbling lines on the paneled ceiling. She felt so weak and sick. Surely, taking a moment to close her eyes and imagine what it would be like to be fully healthy again, wouldn't hurt. Just a moment. To think back to when everything had been right. When V.V. hadn't acted rashly out of jealousy. When Lelouch and Nunnally trusted her and loved her. 

Everything precious had slipped through her fingers like water: impossible to catch or reclaim. V.V. had destroyed it all and he would one day pay. But for now, she would let him think he was safe; that he was forgiven because he was Charles's brother. He still had his Code: his immortality. And, loathe as she was to admit it, he was a crucial part of the Empire, but that wouldn't last forever. Not with Charles steadily working to reduce his influence so their entire intelligence department would not collapse when they finally found a way to circumvent his Code.

Her eyes felt heavy and she struggled to keep them open. _ Sleep. _

Anya's wide and frightened eyes had signified the end of what had been her life.

She closed her eyes against her will. Maybe, she could rest for a minute?

Dreams were always precious and tempting with forgotten sensations. It had been too long since she had felt grass beneath her feet or the thrill of a spar. In a dream, she could relive those precious moments. Sometimes Lelouch would be there too with Nunnally. His face was always young. Sometimes, she dreamed of another faceless boy joining them. Those were the nightmares as he would drag her precious children to their death.

But today, she didn't have time for the comfort of sleep. She had to wake up. And so, she forced her eyes, through sheer willpower to open.

The ceiling greeted her with beautiful depictions of unicorns. Her heart sped up. Had she been kidnapped despite Bismark standing at her door? Feigning sleep, Marianne listened carefully for her captors. 

Someone strode into the room and bright light hit her eyes. "Ya got to get up m'lady. Your mother is waiting for you. Do ya need help getting dressed today?"

Marianne's eyes snapped open and stared at the young trembling maid. Raising her hand in front of her, Marianne stared at it in horror. It was tiny. A child's hand. She grabbed a strand of hair and stared at it. Her hair was brown, but it wasn't it. It was pink. What had happened?

Ignoring the concerned cries of the maid, Marianne stumbled out of the bed, once again made for a child, to the small mirror. Marianne didn't look back at her. Instead, she saw the frightened redish hazel eyes of Anya Alstreim. She had used her Geass. It should be impossible. There had been no eye contact and Anya was halfway around the world.

"I need a phone," she squeaked and even her voice sounded foreign to her ears. Her Geass was never used on children. It felt wrong and the brief hour when she had cast herself into Anya's body upon that fateful night, had scarred her plenty. 

"Yes m'lady." The maid scurried away.

Marianne pressed her palm against the mirror and focused on calming her breathing. She could work out what happened. How her Geass had evolved. Repeated use was supposed to make it stronger, so maybe that was why she was now in Anya's body? But she barely used it in comparison to Charles. There was nothing to indicate it would become a runaway Geass.

The maid returned and pressed a small cellphone into her hands. Marianne took it and glared at the maid until she took the hint and vanished. Flipping the phone open, she began to dial Charles's emergency number. He would know what to do.

The phone rang and she almost cried when Charles asked, "Hello?" 

"Charles, it's Marianne." Her voice broke and she bit back a sob. This should not be happening.

Coldly, he cut through her muffled sobs, "Is this some sort of prank? Who are you?" 

Of course he wouldn't recognize her voice. She sounded like Anya. Forcing herself to calm down, she shared her authorization code, "Golf. Mike. Bravo. One-eight-nine-six." 

The silence on the other end was deafening and she fidgeted as she waited for him to reply. Did he not believe her? Then, finally, "Marianne? You're supposed to be in Paris. Bismark says he is right outside of your door. Where are you?"

He believed her. She leaned against the wall in relief, suddenly feeling limp. "I'm having a little trouble with C.C.'s gift... I think I may be in a coma. Or dreaming... this could be one of those really weird dreams." 

Something clicked on the other end of the line. "Bismark says he is trying to wake you up. It seems... you're right. Explain."

He wasn't her husband in this moment. He was her commander demanding her to report and she happily let herself latch onto the conditioned response. "I retired to my rooms around midnight. I was feeling extremely tired, but still had work to do, so I decided to take a moment to rest. I fell asleep despite my best efforts and tried to force myself to wake up... Then I was in Anya Alstreim's body."

"Alstreim?"

"She was the first person I ever used my Geass on. You know, that night." Maybe she had misunderstood her Geass. Just before she had fallen asleep, she had been reminiscing. "I may have triggered this event since the last thing I remember before falling asleep was... her eyes."

"Marianne," he said and his voice was soft again. The voice of the man she loved. "You are using your Geass. You need to turn it off.

"I can't," she cried. The familiar weight in her mind with using Geass wasn’t there.

The door clicked open and an elderly woman barged in and stared at her in disgust. "Anya! What are you doing on the phone! You were supposed to get ready, not bother some random person."

Marianne stepped back, her heart pounding, and clutching the phone like a lifeline. She couldn't give it up. Anya's mother didn't care and snagged it from her hands, easily overpowering her weak childish arms. She snapped it shut. Marianne stared at the woman in disbelief. She had just hung up on the Emperor. Unwittingly, but no one did that.

"What are you staring around for? Move it," Anya's mother hissed.

Of all the possible bullshit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-The platoons are divided into six squadrons.  
-The wiki says Japan was conquered in the Second Pacific War, but that implies there was a First Pacific War. I guess this would be where Japan transitioned to a democracy (and maybe why India is part of China?), but there is no information regarding the First Pacific War on the wiki.  
-While the show had Cornelia come into Area 11 with guns blazing, that wouldn't be an effective strategy against Zero, who is basically leading an insurgency group. Somehow, Britannia hasn't learned how to effectively deal with rebellions without killing everyone off.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> This was the makeup chapter 2 out of 2. Next update is on Wednesday, as normal. I also updated the summary, which I hope better reflects the story and its trajectory. Thoughts?


	13. In the Shadows, Blood and Power Dwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Layers of Paint

_ Dedicated to Suzaku: It has come to my attention that your father failed to teach you the subtle art of revenge. As you're my best friend, this is unacceptable.  _

_ 1) Never get caught. Revenge is pointless if it leads to your own fall.  _

_ 2) Revenge should always fit the crime. If your enemy doesn't know why they're being targeted, it is pointless and a waste of time. _

_ 3) Always scope out your target. Know thy enemy and all that.  _

_ 4) Insure that you have an alibi. Because there is a good chance they will suspect you, you want to make sure that you have an airtight alibi. _

_ 5) Stage a distraction. Distractions are amazing and should be as loud and flamboyant as possible so everyone will be entranced while you execute your secondary objective. Bonus points if this doubles as your alibi. _

_ 6) Never be where your enemy thinks you are. This is the easiest way to get caught which goes against Rule 1. _

_ 7) If you get caught, make sure you have someone to blame it on. _

_ 8) Revenge planning comes second to Nunnally and best friends.  _

_ 9) Patience is key. Your enemy may be more powerful and have a sword, but if you wait, they'll eventually lower their guard and give you the opportunity to strike. _

_ 10) If all else fails, break into their room. Nothing is more terrifying than knowing a stranger managed to enter and exit your room effortlessly. Repeated incidents increase the chance of getting caught but will also heighten their paranoia and may lead to a mental breakdown. _

_ —Revenge: An Idiot's Guide by Lelouch vi Britannia (2010) _

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch cried out in relief as they found the supply station filled with rations. They hadn't been too late. The moon hung high in the sky as they started a small fire to unthaw their frozen bodies. The rations, while dry, tasted decadent and filled their stomachs with a gentle warmth. Lelouch leaned against a tree and watched in amusement as Alex skewered the hard brick like rations and attempted to roast them over the open flames. Burnt rations didn't taste any different compared to their rehydrated attempt.

The fire flared upwards and the rations burst into flames. Alex let out a small yelp as he jumped backwards to safety. Henry chuckled and rolled over in his sleeping bag, intent on catching up on some sleep. Their brief break was almost peaceful and despite his burning muscles, Lelouch felt relaxed. His squad mates were interesting and while they lacked that easy camaraderie that Rick had forced upon him, there was still something endearing about them. Even Roy.

In the back of the shed, Roy diligently took inventory. He was almost allergic to the concept of rest and unable to stay still. Roy stepped back outside, pulling his jacket tight as the wind howled and a few snowflakes began to drift down. "We'll need shelter from the storm."

Edgar yawned and let a snowflake settle on his outstretched hand. "Only got two days to back to the base. No idea how long it will take for the weather to clear."

Frowning, Roy unrolled the map. "How bad will the storm be? The base is about a twelve hours march from here. If we wait, we'll be dealing with fresh snow when the storm finally relents."

Edgar shook his head. "We're not going to make it in time. I reckon we've got maybe six hours, eight if we're lucky, before the full brunt of the storm hits. If we wait here, at least we have some shelter, else we'll potentially be trying to build a shelter in the middle of a blizzard."

"Only problem," Frederick interrupted, "is that we don't know if it will be a blizzard. Could just stay like this. It's not like the Drill Sergeant gave us the weather forecast."

Roy leaned against a tree and stared at his squadron sitting around the fire. "Fine. What does everyone else think?"

Henry groaned from inside his sleeping bag. "I vote for sleep. What happened to this not being a democracy anyway?"

Roy scowled and then exhaled. His breath condensed in the air. "If we're not careful, we might die. I'm the leader, but that means I'm responsible for your well being. I'm not going to put your life into danger, at least not without talking first." He paused. "I'm still making the final call."

Lelouch took a bite of his ration and squeezed his eyes shut as the bitter taste flooded his senses. "We're not going to die. Although I don't know if the Drill Sergeant will save us from frostbite."

"Snow storm Lelouch?" Edgar looked at him incredulously. "Faith isn't going to save you."

"Not faith," said Lelouch.

Roy glared at him. "Toothpick! Why the hell wouldn't we die? Nobody even knows we're here."

Had none of them noticed the cameras? There was absolutely no privacy. "Since the Drill Sergeant could be watching us right now, I think death is unlikely."

Everyone blinked at him and Lelouch pointed to a tall tree and something reflecting the light of the fire.

"By the might of the Empire, couldn't you have said something before Lelouch!" Roy walked forward and grabbed Lelouch's collar. "We've been worried sick and you've kept this all to yourself."

The other looked at him with various degrees of annoyance.

"My apologies. I thought that your superior skill and situational awareness meant that you had already noticed them. It's not like they're hidden well." Their current surveillance was crude, but effective. It was nothing like noble homes where the cameras were hidden out of sight and small microphones recorded conversations.

Roy punched him in the stomach. "You bastard!"

Frederick leaped forward and pulled Roy back. "Calm down you idiot. And both of you stop pushing each other's buttons! We need to get back in one group. So if we're probably not going to die, lets go. I want to sleep in my own bunk, not on the ice cold ground."

Under the glares of his squadron, Lelouch stood up and began to help pack everything up. How was he supposed to know they hadn't noticed? It was obvious. The cameras even reflected the light. Roy brushed past him and began to furiously pack the rations.

Alex tapped his shoulder. "They really didn't notice? It's sort of obvious."

"Apparently," Lelouch murmured. At least someone in his squadron had common sense. If only it was someone who could actually read.

* * *

**Viceroy's Palace, Tokyo, Area 11**

Inside the lavishly decorated room, Reuben observed the paintings with interest. Prince Clovis was indeed a skilled artist and within the paintings, Reuben could see the influence of various renowned artists. From French to Chinese, Clovis cared little for the supposed superiority of Britannia, at least in the realm of art. It gave Reuben hope, even as he listened to Margrave Donovan prattle to Prince Clovis in an attempt to direct more resources to his own lands and the prince nodding along. The manipulation was obvious. but Prince Clovis, only eighteen and heavily sheltered by Empress Gabrielle, was completely unaware.

Margrave Donovan shot him a sly smile, before his face eased into an impassive mask and continued, "The Purist Faction will undoubtedly help you in this endeavor. It's within our best interest to insure your glorious success. Margrave Greenford is a talented lord and has been running his lands at a great profit for years. I'm sure he would be willing to lend his advice and perhaps a Lawrence. They would definitely spice up these drab walls"

“It would be rather exquisite. Lawrence has some truly stunning portraits, but alas, I find myself captured more by the modern styles. Impressionists are so imaginative, wouldn’t you agree? And the colors… no my paintings are by no means drab.”

Looking rather sour, Margrave Donovan returned to the topic at hand. “Very well. If you insist your highness. Perhaps I will be… convinced. But you must agree at least that building a hotel will one help Area 11 and such funds should be a priority. I will of course pay back the crown myself within the next five years.”

Reuben forced himself to smile. "Prince Clovis. Our goal is to integrate the Numbers within the Empire. While many of the Numbers in Tokyo are working in Margrave Donovan's mines, there are others that have no job opportunities. Hungry people become desperate and desperate people, are impossible to predict. A hotel or whatever pleasure Margrave Donovan imagines, does not help the economy or our limited infrastructure."

"You exaggerate Margrave Ashford," scoffed Margrave Donovan, "The Numbers are our inferiors. There is no need to waste resources on them. They're incapable of contributing to society meaningfully.":

Frowning Prince Clovis took a moment to collect his own thoughts. "Your mines, Margrave Donovan, are run by the Kyoto House and are becoming quite profitable. If we afford them special privilege, why can't we afford it to others? Surely there are those who will earn a place in Britannia."

Margrave Donovan's smile dropped and his eyes hardened. "Please Prince Clovis, I beg you to reconsider. Wasting such resources will only lead to trouble."

Seeing Prince Clovis's hands twitch, in what Reuben was beginning to understand as the precursor to an outburst, Reuben cut in. "Why don't we take a break? It seems like we will not accomplish much today, and I don't know about Margrave Donovan, but I have a mountain of paperwork to sort through."

Prince Clovis nodded eagerly. "Yes, you are dismissed. Although Reuben, I have a message from my older brother for you. He is interested in your little school."

Margrave Donovan scowled at Prince Clovis's familiarity, but bowed and left the room. The door closed behind him with a resounding thud and finally granted the other two peace and quiet. Reuben shared a small smile with Prince Clovis as they relaxed and sank down in their seat. Prince Clovis eagerly pulled out two wine glasses and an ornate jug.

"A drink?" he asked.

Reuben lifted his hand. "A little. I do have a lot of paperwork to do and being drunk, will perhaps make it less painful, but also means I have to do it all again."

Chuckling, Prince Clovis poured the drink. "I never imagined there to be so much paperwork. No wonder Odysseus and Schneizel have so many assistants and even then, they barely have any time. It annoys Guinevere when they miss her parties, but really, I don't know if I can make it to the one next month. There's just so much to do and father is counting on me."

Reuben accepted the glass and took a small sip. "Amen. My own assistant, Sarah, she barely has any time although I admit to dumping most of running the school on her. All my research has been put on hold. I barely have enough time to grab dinner or even speak with my granddaughter. So what did Prince Schneizel want to say?"

"Ah right. He's suddenly enamored with your school and heard you don't have enough teachers. He is offering to loan a couple of his researchers to help teach. He also convinced an Earl to teach history and found an appropriate history textbook." Prince Clovis walked to the side of the room to the cabinet. "I have it here somewhere... Ah, there it is. Quite a good book."

Reuben accepted the history textbook and stared at the author, Lance Gale, with contempt. He knew of the man for his rather, liberal, interpretation of history. The Gale family diligently served in the Empire, but Reuben found they tended to lose a few brain cells in the process. Talking to Ryan Gale, Lance's nephew, had been an exercise of extreme frustration. The boy was intelligent, but stifled his curiosity by never even considering that Britannia could be wrong. A blind follower and aggravatingly useless as a result.

Unfortunately, when the Prime Minister offered a gift, it was foolish to refuse. "Thank you your highness."

"It's just us two here, Clovis please."

"Thank you Clovis, but please, do not accept such gifts concerning my school from your elder brother without consulting me first."

"You don't like it?"

Reuben winced. "Prince Schneizel is the Prime Minister and probably the future Emperor. I cannot refuse Clovis, regardless of my own thoughts on the matter."

"I thought Odysseus was the heir?" he asked, biting his lip. "But you do not like it? Why Reuben? I shudder to think I forced you into something you do not want."

Gabrielle had not done her son a favor by sheltering him. Reuben looked out the window at the crane slowly lifting up a steel beam to help finish the palace. Tokyo was bustling with construction and the immigration list was long. His school would succeed considering how many families were settling in Tokyo. But the type of school he left as his legacy, was still to be decided. The Purist Faction were already moving against him in an attempt to settle their natural order of things. And now, Prince Shneizel was staking a claim.

"Prince Odysseus has made it quite clear that he intends to abdicate to Prince Schneizel when the time comes. Even though he hasn't said it, everyone knows Clovis. The Emperor, as much as I hope for him to have a glorious long life, is growing old. In ten to twenty years, if he follows tradition, he will abdicate and choose one of his children to inherit, most likely Prince Odysseus, since the Emperor favors him." Reuben paused and held out the textbook. "This is just a ploy from Prince Schneizel to help secure his own claim."

"Oh," Clovis whispered and he gulped down the remaining wine, before pouring himself another serving. "I shudder to think our father falling ill. But how does a textbook help him? I thought it was just a nice gesture."

"The Gale family may be commoners, but they are one of the largest publishers in the country and make the majority of their money, selling textbooks to the military. This," he held up the text, "is just propaganda and at times, blatantly false. I want my students to think critically, not follow the Empire blindly. How will we ever innovate if we don't question what we have?"

"I don't understand."

"Your mother sent you the E.U. so you could learn art. The author believes that to be pointless because Britannian art is inherently superior and no other nation can ever compete. If it were up to him, you and I would be tried for treason for buying foreign art."

Clovis's face fell. "That can't be. Why would brother do that? Surely this is just a misunderstanding."

He stared at the young man in pity. "Just next time, don't accept gifts on my behalf."

"Are others using me as well? You?" asked Clovis, his voice cracking as he stared forlornly into the empty wine glass.

"This is what it means to be an adult Prince Clovis. This is the price we pay for our privilege. I have made enemies by deciding to not jostle for a position near the throne, instead, it happened to me by pure chance. I want to innovate, discover new things, and protect those close to me. But Margrave Dolton and Margrave Greenford have their own designs on the throne, and you're a potential route there."

Clovis twirled the glass in his hand and glanced outside. "So you are manipulating me."

Reuben froze, but did not dispute it. 

"Of course," Clovis continued, "you are perhaps the only one whose goals align closest to my own. But do you think you can stay out of the upcoming game?"

A game. To be so young and innocent. The Emblem of Blood had never been a game. It had been a time where marble floors were bathed in blood. Reuben could remember all too clearly, the numerous friends who fell in the silent night or on the battlefield. And now with knightmares and more lethal weapons, the next so called game, could spell the end of Britannia. Charles, the Emperor, had stood victorious with Reuben’s help and surely had taken steps to prevent another conflict of such a massive scale. But the number of children the Emperor fathered did not inspire confidence in Reuben.

Swallowing, he said, "It's not a game Prince Clovis. You may be too young to remember the horrors, but death is never a game and it is death who wins such struggles and walks within our homes, uninvited, at night. Of course, nothing is decided yet and perhaps the Emperor will choose another heir who proves themselves. But if you partake in this foolish competition of blood, know that you will lose everything."

"But I can?" There was an annoying amount of hope in Clovis's voice as if he hadn't heard a thing Reuben had said. "I have a chance to prove myself and step out of my siblings shadows."

Harshly, Reuben warned, "Then you're a fool. Prince Schneizel expects the throne and will not allow anyone to stand in his way. He may appear genial, but he has planned for every contingency. He will win, regardless of the Emperor's decision.... Thank you for this meeting, but unless there is another urgent matter, I have work to do."

Prince Clovis stayed silent and Reuben bowed, leaving the room. Hopefully, the boy wouldn't do anything foolish. Clovis may have a talent for art, but in the upcoming challenge, that meant nothing. Cold calculating brilliance, passionate followers, and a reputation of winning would be needed. Anything else, would be insufficient. 

Reuben entered his office and picked up a small letter, from Milly, on top of the copious amount of paperwork: a budget request. Considering his inability to make time for his granddaughter, it was the least he could do. Signing it quickly, he pulled out the list of applicants for his school that Sarah had prepared. Slowly, he perused their background checks, trying to sort their risk assessment. Nunnally would not get hurt because he became lazy and let a skilled spy slip through his fingers.

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

The faint glow of dawn began to illuminate the snow. Lelouch looked up at the sky and the darkening clouds. They had made good headway and the weather, for now, seemed to be favoring them. Another seven hours of marching and they would finally arrive at the base. Lelouch could hardly wait. The prospect of a warm shower called to him.

On the sled, Lelouch sat up and blinked. He was exhausted, but his own shift would start soon. Nothing was worse than being roused from slumber and thrown directly into a march. It led to stupid mistakes, like walking into a tree. Besides him, Alex stood up and swapped with Roy. The young boy struggled under the weight of the sled, but continued to move forward.

Roy lay down next to Frederick and then rolled over to stare at Lelouch. "I don't understand you."

Wincing, Lelouch said, "Sorry?"

"Why are you even here? You did some math on the first day to figure out where we are. You can obviously read and you even know some laws. Although you obviously can't keep your mouth shut."

"Didn't you think I was an idiot?" Lelouch asked, completely confused at the sudden change in behavior.

"Yes, because only an idiot makes the Drill Sergeant mad. Idiots who can't keep their mouth shut, die. You're an idiot for not getting a different job. I bet you know lots more than you let on, but instead, you are here. So why?"

Wondering if he had misjudged the youth, Lelouch looked back up at the sky and the small snowflakes dancing towards the ground. "The military pays."

Roy snorted. "Now you're bullshitting me. I bet you could easily convince someone to take you on as an accountant. Or a legal assistant. In a year or two, you'll be making more than you'll ever make in the army."

"Maybe I'll get promoted. You seem to know quite a bit as well. No one else seems suspicious."

"Roy Fadiman, remember?"

Lelouch stared at him in confusion.

Glaring at Lelouch, he asked, "The shampoo?"

The Drill Sergeant did indeed call him Shampoo for some reason, but what did that have to do with anything? Lelouch raised his eyebrows.

"Seriously? You have absolutely no bloody idea? Fadiman Shampoo? We also make cosmetics and stuff. No? This isn't ringing any bells?"

"Why would I know that? I just grabbed the cheapest one I could find." Lelouch shrugged.

Roy massaged his temples. "I take it back. You're an absolute irredeemable idiot. Fadiman and Jenkins is one of the richest companies in the Homeland. And you don't recognize our name."

Lelouch shrugged again. "If you're so rich, why don't you buy a noble title? Then you can train as an officer. Bet they don't do any of this."

"Because that isn't part of the brand. The Fadimans always serve in the Britannian army to show our loyalty. We're part of the commoners. If we become nobles, we lose that connection and start back at the bottom." Roy glared at him. "So why are you really here?"

Lelouch would be lucky to keep the facade going for another month at this rate. Apparently, there were just too many things to catch up on, that even living with commoners for half-a-year would not teach him. When it had been just regular commoners, without much wealth or power, they would have never questioned him. But those who interacted with nobles, such as Roy's family, saw the signs of wealth he was unable to hide.

"I had a disagreement with my family. My... father is very staunchly in support of the Empire. He would never consent to me joining another career. At least this way, he will leave me and my sister alone."

Sporting a satisfied smile, Roy nodded. "Don't worry, I won't insult your family. I know what some of them can do to keep their secrets. Sucks for you though."

Somehow, Roy had understood something else. What, Lelouch wasn't quite sure. But at least Roy was backing off and no longer pressing him for dangerous answer. In a way, Roy was right, Lelouch's family would do anything to keep secrets. Unfortunately for Roy, he had no idea how true that was.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally, tapping her cane along the ground before, walked ahead of Allie. Everything was slowly coming together for the plan. It was difficult thinking ahead and trying to determine an appropriate form of retaliation. Lelouch was skilled, but she didn't dare to ask for his help in her letters to him. He would worry unnecessarily. 

Nunnally stopped. "Allie, do you see room 279?"

"Yea," Allie replied and she gently grabbed Nunnally's arm and led her a few steps forward. "It's right here. So what's the plan? We're not going to get in trouble are we? She is still a noble."

Nunnally frowned as she considered the flaw in her "do as Lelouch does" approach. Nobody ever dared to retaliate against him, except their mother and Cornelia, because of their status as royalty. This time, Nunnally would not have that kind of protection. Turning to Allie, she hesitantly began, "You're not going to like this next part."

"Why?"

"Well, Lady Ashford wants us to join her student council. We're going to plan a party."

Silence.

Nunnally fidgeted. How she wished she could see what Allie was thinking. Being blind made it sometimes so hard to tell, especially when people didn't move. She listened to her best friend's breathing which continued calmly.

A sigh. "Nunnally, I thought we went over this. Nobles can't be trusted. Besides, how is this going to help?"

Nunnally beamed. Allie was willing to listen. "We need a distraction and if we're planning a party, we have an alibi. Also, it should be easier to find a way around the cameras. Then we break into her room."

"What?" hissed Allie. "Are you insane. We can't break into a noble's room, even if she's a spoiled brat and deserves it. My sister will kill me if I get arrested, or worse, expelled."

"Hey," Nunnally defended herself. "We'll just paint her books black or something. It's what Lelouch would do. And that's why we need an alibi, so we don't get into trouble."

"Your brother would never do anything like this. I don't think he can even hurt a fly."

Nunnally listened in disbelief. They had met each other? Lelouch was amazing and sweet and absolutely terrifyingly intelligent with a vicious streak a mile wide. There was absolutely no way that Allie hadn't picked up on it. 

"Will you quit staring me at like that Nunnally."

Slowly, "It's Lelouch."

"Yeah," Allie replied, amused, "Lelouch can't exchange a light bulb without help from Rick. Hell, Rick annoys him all the time, and the worst Lelouch has ever done is glare at him. It's sort of cute. Like a kitten."

Gaping, Nunnally tried to find an example of how her brother was most assuredly not a harmless kitten. To her horror, he had acted like a perfect angel for their entire stay in Cornwallis County. She groaned, nobody would ever believe her. It wasn't fair that Lelouch was so... capable at lying. She was just fumbling around in the dark and spilling all of her secrets to Allie. 

"You'll see someday," Nunnally promised, darkly. Perhaps it would years, but Lelouch was incapable of mediocrity. Someday, probably sooner than later, he would prove himself deadly. Not harmless like a kitten, but more like a tiger. Then she would laugh at all their surprised questions. 

"Right." Allie didn't sound like she believed her at all. "So I'm joining a student council, need to hang around a noble, and am breaking into a room and possibly getting arrested or expelled. Anything else?"

That covered it? "Technically I'm doing the breaking in. Unless you know how to pick locks. And we're planning a party. So you'll come to the meeting this afternoon?"

“Why do you? Nevermind.” Allie groaned. "If I wasn't so angry with Sally, I'd never agree to this. But I'm not gonna act all friendly with Lady Ashford. She's a noble. Got it?"

"Of course." One step at a time.

* * *

**Alstreim Manor, Britannia**

Marianne absolutely loathed Anya's mother, Lady Alstreim. The woman constantly ordered her around and watched her with eagle eyes to insure that Marianne couldn't find time to grab the phone again and call her husband, Charles. Part of her regretted not getting to know Anya before for she had no idea how to act like her. The world could not know about Geass and if someone suspected Anya was possessed, it wouldn't end well.

"What has gotten into you Anya? You know you have piano lessons at two. Move it," Lady Alstreim shouted and squeezed her shoulder to shove her out of the room.

The long winding staircase down to the ballroom mocked her. Marianne absolutely loathed stairs. Her eyes scanned the side, searching for the elevator.

"Don't dawdle girl." Lady Alstreim pulled her down the first few steps. "Honestly, what am I going to do with you? You're completely hopeless. You have the manners of a country bumpkin. And are completely incapable of holding a conversation. Hmph. Not going to say anything are you? Typical."

Right. Anya had usable legs. Marianne took a step and enjoyed the feeling of mobility. How long had it been since she didn't have to plan out her route to avoid every single step within the palace? Legs were amazing. A childish smile stretched across her face and not caring for secrecy, she eagerly took another step down the stairs. Her legs were strong and stable, relying on Anya's own muscle memories.

She hopped down the next step. She could jump!

Picking up the hem of her dress, Marianne swiftly descended the stairs and burst into a run on the landing. Perhaps it wasn't too bad being stuck in Anya's body, creepiness aside. She twirled and her dress rose around her, forming an envy worthy hoop.

Scandalously, "Anya! Behave yourself. What will the tutor think?"

That woman grated on her nerves. But Marianne wouldn't let that woman ruin her fun. Perhaps she could practice her swordsmanship again? Fighting from a wheelchair just wasn't the same. Or climb a mountain? Go on a hike? The possibilities were endless.

The tutor, a severe looking woman with her hair tied up in a tight bun, strode into the room. She watched Marianne for a moment, a soft smile on her lips. Patiently, she said, "Come on Anya. I believe your mother wants us to continue your lessons."

Marianne stilled and nodded. Lady Alstreim humphed at the top of the stairs and turned away. Frowning, Marianne considered her options. It was tempting to explore her new found mobility, but this was Anya's body. Marianne would find a way to turn off her Geass and then Anya's life would once again be in her own hands. It would be rude to get the young girl in trouble. She hadn't done anything.

Subdued, Marianne walked after the tutor and sat down at the piano. The tutor spread out the music notes and settled down on the stool besides her. Marianne pursed her lips as the music notes mocked her. It seemed Anya would suddenly forget how to play.

Her finger settled on a key and it rang shrilly. Marianne cringed. Music was not her forte.

The doorbell rang, saving her from any further embarrassment. In the foyer, she could hear massive doors opening and loud footsteps as people entered the house. Her heart pounded and she stood up to run towards the connecting door. She had to see if it was Charles's men.

Anya's mother hurried over. "Stay out of the way unless I call you. No need for you to embarrass this family any further."

"Announcing Lady Alstreim," called out the butler. The door closed behind Lady Alstreim.

Marianne pushed herself against the door frame and peered through the keyhole. The collected men wore suits, but none were in a position that would allow Marianne to see Charles's crest, if these were his men.

"Good evening gentlemen," said Lady Alstreim.

A man stepped forward and Marianne could see his boots snapping together. Military. "Thank you for accommodating us my lady. Is your daughter around?"

They were from Charles. Soon, she would be out of this mess.

"What business do you have with her? She should be beneath the Empire's notice," Lady Alstreim said condescendingly.

"I'm not supposed to say, but Empress Marianne suffered an unknown injury. We just need to take your daughter in for a brief interview. It may be that these attacks are connected."

"The French? Of course the E.U. would be behind this. But I doubt my daughter can help. She is a bit slow on the uptake."

Marianne pursed her lips. They would be having words once she got back to her own body. How could anyone treat their child like that? Lady Alstreim still had her daughter, but she was casually throwing the relationship aside. How Marianne wished that she could return to Nunnally and Lelouch. They were precious to her and she would give anything to have that relationship back. That woman spat on it.

"We're just covering all the bases my lady. Would you fetch your daughter please?"

The door cracked open and Marianne stumbled backwards. It shut behind her. The woman glared at her and snatched her thin wrist. The sharp nails pressed into her skin. She hissed, "Be polite. They're from the Emperor. Understood?"

“Of course.”

Lady Alstreim looked down at her dress. “You’re a mess. If you’re going to waste the Emperor’s time, you can at least look nice while doing it.” She pulled on her arm harsly and began physically dragging her up the stairs. “Don’t dally. Whatever am I going to do with you Anya.”

Inside of Anya’s room, the woman withdrew a hideously pink dress that Marianne would never let Nunnally wear, and pulled it over her head. Marianne squeezed her eyes shut as the fabric snagged her ears. The strings around her waist tightened and she gasped as Lady Alstreim suddenly secured the bodice. Then, before she could even voice, her complaint, her hair was secured on her head with painful tugs and whisked back downstairs.

She felt like a doll. A very fancy doll, but still a doll. 

With a small shove, Marianne stumbled into the room and dipped her head politely to the men. The woman's hand settled on her shoulder with a strong and threatening grip. Marianne hated her.

The man stared at her impassively. "Let us depart. Thank you for your understanding Lady Alstreim."

The woman's eyes bore into her back as Marianne walked to the limousine and settled in the back. The man sat across from her, while his companions, settled in next to her.

"The Emperor wishes to speak with you himself. You will be on your best behavior," he said.

Marianne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He was her husband and they were going to have words once they resolved the stupid Geass thing. If he dared to send her to the E.U. again with a boring peace talk mission, she was going to strangle him. She had other skills, mainly on the battlefield, and she wanted to see her children. If only she could spend time with them, they would surely understand and forgive her. At least Nunnally would. She responded to the letters even if her replies were curt. Lelouch was truly the problem.

But firstly, before anything, she was going to yell at Charles for his stupid little stunt. The man across from her was a professional. He would have never spilled information on accident. No. Charles had told him to do so and fan the rumor mill. He was sending an apology letter to Nunnally and Lelouch. They should not hear about her coma from the gossip rags. It didn't matter that the E.U. would bend over backwards to avoid blame. Their children should not fear for her life. That was her job.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally waited impatiently in the soft comfortable couch for Allie to arrive. Besides her Milly nervously shuffled the papers.

"Your friend is going to be okay with this? Right?" Milly asked and slid her chair backwards. "She's your best friend and I don't want to make you choose. We're all going to be good friends right? Grandpa is always so busy now."

Nunnally clenched her hands together. "Allie will come around. How can anyone not like you? You're amazing."

"I hope so. I want some friends as well. How's Lelouch doing?"

"He says he is doing fine and that people exaggerate how hard the army is. But mail is slow. I can't wait until Lelouch saved enough money to visit us."

Milly laughed. "That would be awesome. We should do something special then. As a birthday party for the two of you. And have you heard from your mother?"

Her mother wrote letters regularly, although the frequency had slowly dwindled in the past month. "Still busy in the E.U. I think father is going to declare war again soon. Probably in the Philippines, but it's complicated. It depends on what China is going to do."

"Not again. We barely just conquered Japan and now we're going again? Ridiculous. Your brother isn't going to get caught up right?"

Nunnally frowned. Her brother was no in the army as a simple foot soldier. He would be in the middle of the action and a small pit formed in her stomach. What if Lelouch died? There were so many risks on the battlefield. Would he even be able to march into another country? Especially after what he had seen in Japan.

"I hope not. But war hasn't been declared yet. So he has some time to avoid getting called to the front lines."

"Hey," Milly whispered and set her hand on Nunnally’s shoulder. "I bet Lelouch has a plan. He always has a plan and if he doesn't, he will make one. Nothing will happen to your brother. He wouldn't allow it, not after he promised to be there for your birthday."

Nunnally nodded and brushed the tears out of her eyes. The door swung open.

“Nunnally you’re crying!" Allie shouted and stomped forward, drawing Nunnally into a hug. Softly, she whispered into Nunnally’s ear, "She didn’t do anything, did she?"

"Oh my," Milly whispered, her voice tinged with amusement, "you've got quite a protective friend there."

Nunnally grabbed Allie's hands. "Allie, I'm fine. Was just worried for Lelouch."

"You sure? It’s not because of..."

Milly laughed. "I like her Nunnally. I'm keeping her."

"What?" Allie croaked and withdrew from Nunnally. "You're not keeping anyone. Nunnally, she can’t keep me, can she?"

Nunnally leaned back and finished drying her tears as Milly teased Allie and tore through her defenses. Nobody could resist the unique Milly charm, even Allie. A soft smile formed on her face.

"So Allie, what's the deal with Sally?" Milly asked.

Nunnally froze.

Allie laughed nervously. "She's just a bit mean."

"To Nunnally and you? You're both part of the student council, so she can't mess with you anymore."

Nunnally lifted her hands. "It's nothing like that Milly. We're fine. We've got it under control."

Sighing, Milly said, "Fine. Keep it tight to your chest then. But if anyone bothers you because you're blind Nunnally, they'll have to deal with me. Grandpa was very clear."

Allie snorted and quietly said, "Tell that to Ms. Abequa."

"I see," Milly replied, trailing off into silence.

Nunnally stilled.

"Very well, let's plan our toga party!"

Relaxing, Nunnally grabbed the packet of braille papers and began to assist in planning. Everything was perfectly alright and going to plan. Lelouch would be proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Lelouch's birthday is December 5. :) Happy Birthday Lelouch.  
-The Emblem of Blood overlapped with the end of the European/Japanese conflict. Due to war in mainland Europe and East, Iceland and Greenland petitioned to join Britannia. Britannia accepted and this resulted in Area 2 expanding to contain Canada, Alaska, Iceland, and Greenland...  
-In real life, Switzerland gained a lot of influence due to being a neutral treaty ground where various parties could negotiate and because of the money. Since Napoleon threw off all of European's history, this dynamic didn't evolve. Instead, with a more powerful China, Australia became the only neutral country and the banking center of the world. This sort of solves my, why is Australia not conquered problem.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Next update is Wednesday.


	14. The Yearning of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Letter from Above

_ Cryptography, the art of encoding messages, has been around for thousands of years, growing more sophisticated as time passes. Caesar developed the first known substitution cipher that relied on the secrecy of the method. In the 16th century, Vigenere developed an encryption key. The French developed the Great Cipher with counter measures against frequency analysis. Electricity brought another revolution to the realm of cryptography with the Hebern rotor machine, which one again was broken frequency analysis. _

_ At this time, Britannia began playing on the global stage again and decided that good codes resistant to frequency analysis were a waste of time, and decided to flood the playing field instead. Every noble house made up their own code and codes became increasingly dependent on things like invisible ink. Official codes in Britannia also began to rely on indigenous languages which caused numerous decryption issues for the E.U. and China. A few families began pioneering visual cryptography, where they hid codes in visual mediums. _

_ The E.U. and China did not rely on secrecy of the methodology and instead shifted towards digital encryption and decryption. In 2003, faced with computers decoding numerous secret codes, Britannia finally relented and began to develop their own digital encryption. _

_ —Cryptography in Modern Times _

* * *

**Glenshire Woods, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch heard the soft moans before anyone else. They came from behind the trees and Lelouch approached them warily, clutching the rifle, despite it not being deadly. If they were an enemy, they didn't necessarily know it just had blanks. And worst case, he could use it as a crude club.

"Hello?" he called out.

Alex jogged up beside him. "Lelouch?"

"Thought I heard someone. Help me check?" Lelouch asked without turning around as he walked forward, prodding the ground with the rifle in case there were any traps.

From behind the tree, a young fellow recruit slowly crawled into view and stared at him with wide eyes. "Please, help."

"Damn," muttered Alex as he walked closer. "That doesn't look good."

Lelouch frowned and walked beside him. His stomach rolled as he saw the other recruit lying in the snow, his body worryingly pale and plastered with dried blood.

"Alex. Get Edgar. He probably knows how to treat frostbite," Lelouch ordered. He walked closer to the young recruit pressed against his fallen comrade. "I'm going to help. What's your name?"

"Ovid," he said. "That's Victor."

Ovid's brown eyes stared at him harshly as he backed away to allow Lelouch to have a closer look. Lelouch carefully examined the head. He could see a small amount of swelling, but at least the cold had stemmed the blood flow. Holding his hand in front of Victor's mouth, Lelouch sighed in relief. The boy was still breathing steadily. It probably wasn't hypothermia yet which meant the frostbite would be easier to treat.

"I'm going to have my squad mates help move him. We need to warm him up. What happened to his head?"

"Tree branch broke and struck him on the head. Got my arm too, but it ain't broken. Just bruised." He scowled fiercely and spat, "The bastards left us 'cause we were slowing them down."

Edgar and Roy jogged over and stopped besides Lelouch. Roy stared at the two recruits. "Oh hell no. And we were almost there." Grumbling, he called over to Alex, "Bring the sled over and tell Henry to get up. And make sure you bring those rations and our hot water."

Lelouch stared at Roy in surprise. They would be losing valuable time and the wind was picking up, signaling the approaching storm. If they didn't make it to the base within the next hour or two, they would be trudging through a blizzard. Of course, a blizzard meant that Ovid and Victor might actually die.

Inspecting the body, Edgar asked, "How long have you been out here?"

"Since dawn... Tried to drag him, but my arm is pretty busted and we've got no food. Been trying to keep him war. But it ain't doing much, especially with the wind."

Edgar nodded. "Hey Roy, help me left him on the sled. Lelouch, you're going to help me get him in the sleeping bag. He's not too cold yet, but we need to protect him from the wind. Not sure what to do about the head wound. It looks pretty nasty."

Grabbing the sleeping bag, Lelouch waited for Roy and Edgar to settle Victor's body on the sled and began pulling the sleeping bag up. "The bleeding stopped. Head wounds tend to look a lot worse than they are. Probably has a concussion which isn't too great."

"Can you walk?" Roy asked Ovid. "We need to hurry. The faster we get your friend to base. The faster we can get them medical attention."

Lelouch stared off into the distance. "Alex is the lightest of us. And Henry is pretty rested. Have Henry run the sled and Alex can make sure that Victor isn't jostled too much."

"Aren't we supposed to stick together?" asked Alex as he bit into one of the rations and offered another to Ovid.

"Hate to say it, but Lelouch is right. Saving a life is more important than ambiguous instructions. Lelouch? Think you can find one of those cameras. Maybe they'll see and meet us halfway there." Roy turned to shout at Henry, his voice echoing across the snowy landscape, "Get over here!"

Looking up at the snowy canopy, Lelouch searched for the familiar flashes of light indicating a camera. It was harder with an overcast sky, but he managed. Alex, seeing his gaze, nodded and wrapped his arms around the trunk, as he began to scurry up with ease. Lelouch stood back, amazed. The tree creaked ominously and snow fell to the ground as Alex settled down on a branch and waved his hands before the camera and gestured to the sled.

"Three shorts, three long, three shorts," Lelouch hollered at Alex.

"What?"

"Emergency signal! Three short taps! Three long ones! And another three short!"

"What's a long tap!"

Lelouch groaned. "Just tap the lens and hold your finger down for a second or two. They just need to be longer than the short ones!"

Hopefully someone was watching and aware of their plight. Alex slid down the tree and sprinted over to Henry’s sled where Roy was lugging Victor’s body onto the sled. Snow crunched as Henry ran off dragging the sled and Alex. Lelouch turned to watch them go. Hopefully, they would arrive safe and sound or meet with a medical team from the base. At the very least, the med team could prepare for their arrival.

“We’re all in this together, right?” asked Edgar.

Frederick, roused from his slumber, nodded. "I'd say the Drill Sergeant can't punish all of us, but he can."

"I'll take the blame," Lelouch offered, "he hates me enough that he should jump on the chance."

"No," Roy said, "you may be annoying twat, but we're a squad and made this decision together. I'll take the blame."

Lelouch didn't reply. He would let Roy think he had conceded.

* * *

**Unknown Location, Pendragon**

Marianne glanced at her limp body and felt a small shiver climb down her spine. It felt so wrong. Bismark and Charles stood to the side, looking at her expectantly.

Marianne closed her eyes and searched for the familiar tugging feel of the Geass. Unlike before, she could feel a small thread almost leading to her body. Testing the theory, Marianne walked around her body and felt the direction change. But frustratingly, when she tried to grasp it and end the utter humiliation of being a small child, it slipped through her fingers.

"Well?" Charles asked and tapped his foot impatiently.

"I apparently have a honing sense for my body. But no look on the returning part." Marianne tapped her fingers along her leg. The solution was frustratingly close, like the tip of her tongue. "I also feel... other connections? They aren't as strong, but they feel familiar."

Charles glanced at her body speculatively. "Perhaps Anya isn't a unique case? Your Geass might just require eye contact initially. If that's true, we—"

"Don't. We're fixing this bloody mess and I'm going to return to my nice adult body and then we're going on a date. You owe me for negotiating with the E.U."

"Of course Marianne," he smiled briefly and stared at her comatose body speculatively. "Perhaps, subconsciously, you do not want to return?"

Instinctively, she opened her mouth to protest and then clicked it shut. Charles had a point. Being in Anya's body was cathartic. Liberating. But it came with a bunch of downsides, mainly, being a child. She did not want to go through puberty again and if she ever wanted to reconnect with Lelouch, it would be helpful to be in her own body.

"Let's take a break Marianne," said Charles. "I've ordered dinner and we can catch up. I've missed you as well."

"This would be so much more romantic if I wasn't eight years old," Marianne muttered and Charles had the nerve to chuckle. Glaring up at him through her pink bangs, she hissed, "And what about Lelouch and Nunnally? What are they going to think, considering you leaked my health all over the news. They will be worried sick."

Charles briefly paused while lowering himself into the velvet lined chair. "I'm sure they'll—"

"If you say understand, we're going to have a problem."

"Fine," Charles huffed. "I'll write a letter. You could write one as well and assure them you're fine personally."

Marianne rolled her eyes. "In whose handwriting? It would be obvious if I sent the same letter twice. Besides, Lelouch hasn't been replying to my letters at all. I don't think he is reading them. How am I supposed to apologize if he won't even read them? Or give him his birthday present."

"Birthday?"

It shouldn't surprise her that he had once again forgotten. Unless it was Geass related, Charles had a terrible memory. Ironic since his Geass allowed him to alter the memory of others. "October and December Charles. Seriously, you were there. But don't worry, it's not like they're expecting anything from you."

Charles stood up and collected a couple pieces of paper. "Don't pout Marianne. It's disturbing. I can send a letter to Nunnally through Lord Ashford, but not to Lelouch."

At least he remembered their names. Marianne was quite sure that Charles had forgotten the names of all his younger children. They weren't important enough being too young to do anything significant.

The gold gilded fountain pen glided across the paper. Marianne grabbed an apple and bit into it. 

Charles looked up at her briefly. "You did teach Lelouch the royal code? I did send them to Japan before Lelouch was old enough to formally learn it."

"Of course," Marianne replied. Lelouch had gone through one of his phases when he was six and picked up every book book on cryptography that he could get his hands on. It had been adorable when Lelouch insisted on only communicating through code in various hand signals of increasing complexity. She stopped in mid bite. "I think there might be a slight problem."

His eyebrows raised. "If I send this through the regular mail, it has to be encrypted. You claim he is intelligent, surely he will figure something out, especially if I include a copy of your previous letter."

Shaking her head, she bit in the apple contemplatively. "No. Not that. I'm just not sure if Lelouch realizes how special the code is."

He stared at her.

"Lelouch grabbed every code book he could get his hands on when he was six and I thought it would be a good opportunity to teach him the royal code. But I may have forgotten to tell him how important it was."

Charles had a strange look on his face and Marianne set aside her apple. 

She offered with a grim smile, "It was time to change the codes anyway?"

Shaking his head, her husband returned to writing the letter. "You will inform him yourself once we solve this ridiculous situation."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, you'll be staying in Britannia. The Philippines will wait until we can be sure that you're not accidentally body hopping anymore." He paused and hastily added, "We don't understand how an activated Geass and the Thought Elevators mix. It's a simple precaution."

Marianne simply smiled and took another bite of the apple. It was always amusing to know that Charles actually cared. "Then we have time for a date if we'll be experimenting."

And there, at the edge of his lips, she could see a fond smile forming. It was nice being home. Now if only she had her children here.

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch stood before the Drill Sergeant snapped at attention as the wind buffeted his body. The man had been waiting for them under a small umbrella and next to a heater. Every ounce of his body screamed displeasure, but there was nothing that Lelouch or the squadron could do. As their noses turned red from the nipping cold wind, they waited for him to speak.

The Drill Sergeant walked forward and the snow crunched beneath his feet. His hard eyes bore into them. They didn't budge.

Lelouch met the gaze firmly, knowing that he would face the man's ire, There was no avoiding it. The Drill Sergeant hated him and Lelouch would use that to his advantage. Seeing him take the blame, should at least, endear him to his squad mates and Lelouch was in desperate need of allies, especially those who would trust him. One day his facade would slip slightly too much, and then those allies would be necessary to prevent anyone from coming to the obvious conclusion. After all, nobody would believe a prince to be friends with, so called, worthless commoners.

The Drill Sergeant barked, "Well. I thought I told you to return as a group. Where is Private Henry Sullivan and Private Alex Doe? They were members of your group, weren’t they?"

"Yes Drill Sergeant," they chorused. It was the first time he had called them privates. Lelouch wondered if perhaps they had earned some respect although it was impossible to tell from the Drill Sergeant's unrelenting gaze.

"Why is Private Sullivan and Private Doe not with you?"

Lelouch stepped forward, ready to take the blame. Roy also took a step forward and Lelouch glared at him. His plan had a lower chance of working if the other boy interfered. The Drill Sergeant hated him. It was a fact. The man would happily take the opportunity to use Lelouch as a scapegoat; he had before.

"Well," barked the Drill Sergeant.

Lelouch swallowed and steadied his nerves. He didn't know what sort of punishment awaited him, but he would bare it.

Before he could speak, Roy cut in, "I ordered Private Henry Sullivan and Private Alex Doe to escort Private Victor to the base. It was my opinion that his condition was serious enough that immediate medical care was needed Drill Sergeant."

Lelouch took a step forward. "Our squadron split apart because I overstepped my bound Drill Sergeant."

"Shut up," Roy hissed quietly, "I've got this.

The Drill Sergeant gazed at both of them, not amused. "So who is at fault here? Shampoo or Toothpick?"

The snow crunched beneath Ovid's feet as he too, took a step forward. "This squad saved mine and Victor's life Drill Sergeant. If they're at fault, then so am I."

The eyes narrowed. "And who decided to make the sleds out of military property?"

"I did Drill Sergeant," Lelouch said as he took the opportunity to draw the Drill Sergeant's attention again. It had been fully his decision and no one else would take the blame. "The others had nothing to do with it."

"Bullshit!" Shouted Edgar. He marched through the snow and stared at the Drill Sergeant's eyes. "Lelouch didn't do anything. I was the one who made the sleds and took the wooden shelves."

Frederick snorted from the side, but added, "I helped as well Drill Sergeant. We are all guilty. It would not be fair to punish Lelouch."

The Drill Sergeant's face stayed impassive as his eyes swept over them. "All of you will turn in your weapons and dog tags to the quartermaster. Afterwards, you'll immediately turn yourself in at the guardhouse. You're all being indefinitely detained for insubordination."

"Yes Drill Sergeant." 

Almost eagerly, they turned to the gate. It would be warm inside and whatever the Drill Sergeant could come up with as punishment, would be nothing compared to the freezing winds outside. Inside would be better.

"Shampoo and Toothpick, you stay," ordered the Drill Sergeant just as they passed through the gate.

The two froze and the other members of their squadron stared at them guiltily, before turning back to the base, under the warning gaze of the Drill Sergeant. Lelouch turned around. Despite ruining his plans, Lelouch felt grateful. His squad mates hadn't left him out to hang. Instead, they almost seemed to care. It still would have been better had they let Lelouch carry out his plans.

The Drill Sergeant stared at him and Roy. His gaze was unforgiving, then, the edge of his mouth twitched. "Fadiman and Lamperouge, eh? Don't ever try to lie to me again."

"It wasn't a lie," Lelouch answered. "If it hadn't been for me, the squadron would have never committed insubordination."

Roy shook his head and elbowed Lelouch. "As the squad leader, the actions of the squad are my fault. I take full responsibility."

The Drill Sergeant was quiet again as he stared at the two of them. "You planning on a promotion boys?"

"Of course," Roy began.

The Drill Sergeant cut him off. "Then learn to play the system Fadiman. Lamperouge was planning on that before the rest of the squad ruined it," he paused and looked at Lelouch. "Don't look so surprised boy. Nobody with any common sense would hang themselves to dry before someone who hated them. And considering your... stature, I assume you have some common sense to have survived."

"Apologies," Lelouch bowed his head, feeling as if the floor had suddenly been removed from underneath him. The Drill Sergeant was supposed to hate him. People jumped to conclusion when they were angry. He had offered the perfect opportunity. It didn't make sense. Instead, the Drill Sergeant had seen through him.

The Drill Sergeant sighed. "This is training for a reason. If you tried to pull such a trick against a noble, they would have you flogged along with every single person in your squad or platoon. No pretty words will save you then. And as Private Lamperouge so helpfully pointed out on the first day, killing an enlisted soldier is treason, but you forgot, there are worse things than death. Never give a noble a reason to hate you, only show success."

Lelouch shivered at the dark tone. Perhaps it wasn't the wisest decision to attempt to anger a man who had complete control over his life. Nunnally would never forgive him if he got hurt, and his mother, she would have a fit if he ever got flogged. 

"Drill Sergeant?" asked Roy.

"Yes?"

"Isn't it my duty to protect my squadron? If I blame them for my actions, then I will never have their trust."

"Do you know how many soldiers are discharged and then often have a fatal accident Private Fadiman?"

Lelouch felt sick. The answer had always been before him. After all, how often did a noble family assassinate a rival? His own mother had personally ended multiple people's careers. And, he never heard of them again. They could be alive, but perhaps they weren't. The Emperor had the OSI to monitor and vanish those he disliked. Lelouch knew that. It just had never truly clicked. 

A noble could order him to shoot his best friend, and if he didn't, then he would die. Nunnally would die. The rest of his family would die or live in disgrace. Lelouch had protection in the form of his secret identity, but others didn't have a trump card up their sleeves. Was the soldier at fault? Or was the noble? Were they both at fault?

He wanted to blame someone. The Emperor was definitely guilty, but did he even have the power to stop? If Nunnally sat on the throne, would she, despite her kind heart, be completely unable to stop such atrocities? His fits clenched and the gloves creaked. There was no one to blame, but a system built on two centuries of oppression. How did one fight a system?

The Drill Sergeant continued, "Congratulations on being the second group to arrive. Get inside. You're still being punished for insubordination."

"Yes Drill Sergeant."

Lelouch and Roy scurried past the gate and into the warm compound. Neither talked, too busy mulling. Lelouch glanced back. The Drill Sergeant was a mystery, an unknown variable, and he loathed mysteries.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Sitting down slowly, Nunnally tried to understand. Her mother was ill? Had been attacked? Assassinated? There had been no official word from Britannia, but she could hear the boys and girls gossiping. Something had happened to Empress Marianne, and Nunnally, was the last one to find out. She should have been the first one to know. Marianne was  _ her _ mother. It wasn't fair.

Milly pulled her into a soft hug and pressed something into her hands. "Grandfather wanted me to deliver this. It's urgent."

Her hands curled around the paper and she nodded, her mind still in shock.

"I'm sure she's okay. I'll make an excuse for the teachers. Take a day off."

Nunnally stood still. Her mother was injured. She didn't want to lose her mother. Her mother was constantly risking her life. What if she died thinking that Nunnally hated her? Their letters and occasional phone calls were brief, but Nunnally could never find enough to say. She was still so angry and unable to articulate her feelings properly. But now? Now, she just felt mind numbing fear. Marianne was her mother.

Grasping her cane, she tapped it along the ground ahead of her as she slipped away and returned to her dorm room. The letter burned in her pocket. What did it say? Would it say that her mother was dead? Nunnally swallowed. Her mother couldn't die, not yet.

Her hands shook as she stopped in front of her dorm room and tried to insert the key. The key scratched across the doorknob, before finally settling into the hole and turning. The door swung shut behind Nunnally and she settled down on the bed in the corner. Grabbing the letter, she turned it over. It smelled fresh. It hadn't been sent overseas like the ones from Lelouch or her mother. Her fingers found the small little flap where the letter had been glued shut.

It was unopened. Surely, if it was bad news, Reuben would have pulled her aside and not delivered the information so distantly. Lelouch's plan didn't matter if her mother was dying in a hospital bed. Her hands shook and she growled as the paper refused to rip.

Stumbling off her bed to the desk, Nunnally searched for a letter opener. It grazed against her hand, drawing blood, but she didn't care. Nunnally ignored the stinging sensation and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Her hands traced over the small bumps.

And again.

Her mother was fine. Apparently, she had been under a bit too much stress and had a slight relapse. Tears formed in her eyes.

And at the end, she whispered the words in amazement, "your father."

Never, in all of her memories, had he ever referred to himself as such. It was always Charles zi Britania. The Emperor did not make sentimental gestures. When she had been younger, she would have loved to have such an acknowledgment. Now, it felt strange. Years too late. But, she couldn't stop the small feeling of weightlessness in her chest. He cared. Her father cared.

The door opened and Allie called, "Nunnally?"

She raised her head.

"You're crying. Did something happen?"

Yes and Nunnally couldn't share. She wanted her brother, but he was far away. Still, she owed some sort of explanation to her friend. "My father wrote."

"And is that bad?" The bed creaked and Allie settled down beside her, a comforting hand on Nunnally's back.

"I always thought he didn't care," Nunnally admitted. "I was always so desperate for him to notice me. Lelouch would always comfort me when he ignored me. I drew so many pictures of us, but he was always too busy."

Allie continued to rub her back soothingly.

A small hiccup and Nunnally continued. "And then I couldn't see and it was just Lelouch and I. He was always there for me. And everyone talks about their parents. You talk about yours. Rick talks about his. Even Sally does... And Lelouch, he acts more like a father should than my actual father... And I miss him."

Her best friend pulled her into a tight hug. "It's okay. He can't do anything here and you can always have my dad if you want. He's amazing."

"I'm just so confused. It's the first time he ever called himself my father... and I hate it. Because he never did so before. And now he dares, but I also want him to write again, to say it, and be my father. I'm not Lelouch... I can't just cut people off."

"Cut people off?"

The tears were flowing freely now and Nunnally desperately tried to stop them and rubbed her eyes. "He's so mad at mother. It's been almost a year, but he hasn't talked to her at all. He doesn't open any of her letters. But I... I can't. I shouldn't forgive her. I hated her... but I still read her letters and she's always fighting and what if something happens?"

"Sometimes it's harder to keep caring," Allie said. "Gwen and me have an older brother you know. We don't talk about him much. But he constantly disappears and then he'll come back, all confused and hurt. Sometimes the coppers find him. Sometimes he is gone for months. And every time we're terrified he won't come back."

"And?"

Allie laughed darkly. "And nothing. We can't do anything but wait and hope."

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch massaged his wrists as he returned to the barracks. The stay in the guardhouse had been brief, just a night, but Lelouch wasn't particularly eager to return. Not being able to use his hands had been terrifying and nightmares plagued his sleep as his mind conjured images of assassins and kidnappers. In one dream, he had watched Nunnally taken away, while he lay helplessly on the ground, unable to move.

Jerking away from a gentle nudge, Lelouch looked at Alex who smiled guiltily and asked, "You okay?"

Lelouch took a deep breath and calmed his racing heart, letting the tension drain away. No one should ever suspect that something was wrong. That was weakness. "I'm fine."

Alex stared at him dubiously, but didn't press the issue further.

Looking around the barracks, Lelouch watched in confusion as people sat or lay on the ground. Busy. His eyes swept the room and stopped at the side table and the small pile of letters. Letters. Nunnally. Mail day.

Not waiting for Alex, Lelouch purposefully strode over and began scanning the letters. There were eight letters. Two he immediately recognized as from Nunnally, and another one was from his mother. Not bothering to open the latter, he dumped it in the trash incinerator and sat down by the wall, tearing open Nunnally's letters.

Alex sat down besides him. "You didn't even read it."

"Uhuh," Lelouch muttered as his fingers skimmed the page. Nunnally was doing well and at the end, she asked him to smell the letter. He brought it up to his nose. Very faintly, but there was the smell of cherry blossoms. A small smile curled on his face.

Peering over his shoulder, Alex asked, "Is it good news? Why is it blank? There's nothing written on there. How can you read it?"

Lelouch sighed and turned his body away, so he could begin reading the next letter. Their  _ cousin _ was apparently doing a lot better. Perhaps adjusting was also difficult for Milly. Despite her exuberance, she never had much opportunity to interact with other people. His finger slowly moved downwards as he relaxed and let Nunnally's voice wash over him. He missed her.

Roy stopped besides him, snagged the letter out of his hand, and checked both sides. "There's nothing on it?"

"Give that back," he ordered as he stood up, his voice cold.

Raising his eyebrows, Roy looked at the paper again. "It's just got a bunch of bumps on it? Seriously what is this?"

"Braille. It's from my sister. She's blind. Now give it back." Lelouch snatched the letter back and moved further away from the duo.

Alex slid up to him and stared at the letter with blatant curiosity. "You gotta a sister? I didn't know that. How's she blind?"

Lelouch glared at the two boys who watched him like a hawk. There were too many questions. "Leave me alone."

They stood by the wall as he sat down in the corner, pressed against a bunk bed, and resumed reading. Nunnally was planning a toga party with Milly which she was looking forward to. Her letter seemed positive although Lelouch couldn't shake the feeling that not everything was smelling like roses. Still, if something important came up, she would tell him. Wouldn't she? Nunnally always told him. It was his job to protect her after all.

Lelouch pulled out a piece of paper and a small pencil. Taking his pocket knife, he sharpened the end to a fine needle point. Then carefully, he squeezed the piece of paper between his legs and pulled on it with his left hand, until the paper was taunt. Quickly, but methodically, he used the pencil to pierce the paper and begin writing his reply.

From afar, Alex asked, "Is this normal for you family folks?"

"No," Roy replied. "Don't know what he's thinking. The Drill Sergeant is going to be mad if he catches him doing that. Think he'll answer properly if we ask him again?"

"So throwing letters in the trash ain't normal either?"

"After reading them, sure. Well, if they aren't from important people," said Roy.

Alex snorted. "Lelouch didn't read it at all. He did have that annoyed look on his face."

Lelouch's eyebrow ticked and the paper tore slightly as he used too much force to pierce the paper.

"Spam?" Roy suggested.

Looking up, Lelouch glared at the two and they flinched backwards. "Will you please shut up? My sister is blind. I'm writing in braille. The letter was from my mother and before you ask, the other four are from friends back home. Now go away and give me some privacy."

Roy, predictably, ignored him and decided to invade Lelouch's personal space instead. "So what's in the mystery letter?"

Setting down his letter to Nunnally, Lelouch silently counted to ten. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the mystery letter away from Roy's curious hands. Whoever had sent the letter might know of his real identity and, potentially, had been less than careful. He would never allow anyone to read his mail.

Pointedly, he asked, "Don't you have your own letters? Or something better to do than bother me?"

Alex stared at him, silently reminding Lelouch that he wouldn't have letters, for he lacked a family. To Lelouch it had been a reasonable question because Alex might have friends. It wasn't like Lelouch's hundred or so relatives would even consider to write.

"I had a short phone call," Roy answered and sat down on the floor, apparently having no intention of leaving Lelouch alone. "Besides, as I said, you're a bit of a mystery. And I can't help but feel like you-know-what is something you want to me think."

A phone call. Nobody was supposed to get phone calls, but apparently, even in the army, wealth came with special privileges. It was unfair. Lelouch wanted to talk to Nunnally. Whatever family Roy had talked to was surely less special than Nunnally. She deserved better than an absent brother. And You-know-what? Lelouch most certainly did not. Feigning understanding, Lelouch opened the mystery letter.

His heart jumped up in his chest.

There was nothing special about the letter. Except for being absolutely bland, meandering, and idiotic. Or that was what it seemed.

The tail end of the "e" was curled inwards. It was simple enough that Lelouch would mistake it for a handwriting quirk if he hadn't learned otherwise. Instead, it meant that the message was encoded. A highly simplistic code in Lelouch's opinion that heavily relied on memorization. It was by far his least favorite code, especially after having witnessing the consequences of Britannia's philosophy of might makes right. The key was  _ On the Origin of Species _ . A copy of which Lelouch was sure every member of his family and probably the rest of the nobility as well, had flying around somewhere.

Matching the small curl to the key he memorized in his youth, Lelouch mentally began scanning the diagonals of the letter. The first letter of each word was matched with the first instance of a word beginning with that letter in the concluding chapter. The concluding letter of that word was the encoded letter. Of course, not every letter could be referenced as such, which left Lelouch with a variety of letters that didn't make sense.

The message, with a few corrections, read as follows:

_ Your mother has fallen ill, but should recover soon. This is not due to an assassination attempt, despite reports to the contrary. Because you won't answer her letters, she insists that I write to you myself in hopes that you read this. You will reply so we don't have to continue this ridiculous exercise. I've included a copy of the letter as a precaution. In the lower right corner, you'll find a belated birthday gift from myself. Destroy this letter afterwards. _

Lelouch looked down at the corner and the small detailed embellishments. Looking at it closely he could make a lightly penciled sequence within: OLB12599. He snorted. Of course the bastard used his birthday.

Still.

Lelouch looked up, unsure of what to make of the gesture. It was unlike his father to express care, even if his mother coerced him into it. It was befuddling. Unfortunately, he couldn't ignore his mother anymore. The coded message had been an order and Lelouch knew he wouldn't like the consequence that would follow his disobedience. Even his mother would not be able to save him then.

Roy groaned loudly. "You're not even listening to me are you? So who was the letter from?"

Unable to keep the confusion out of his voice, Lelouch said, "My father. He gave me a birthday present."

A very useful one. The identification code would allow him to act in the Emperor's name if the need ever arose. Such codes were rare and almost entirely given to the Emperor's own secret agents and the Knight of the Round. His mother had one. Did that make Lelouch an agent of his father?

He shuddered. A terrifying thought.

"That bad?" Roy asked. "Why did he write anyway? If you're here, he obviously doesn't care much."

Lelouch pursed his lips. It would be extremely beneficial if he knew what assumption Roy had made, but as he didn't, he stuck as close to the truth as possible. "My mother got injured. Apparently she has been nagging him as a result."

Scrunching his forehead, Roy stared at Lelouch. The confusion was obvious. Whatever Roy thought, Lelouch's answer had not conformed to his expectations. Good. It meant Roy didn't suspect Lelouch of being a prince: somehow.

"If you're going to bother me, then you can throw this in the trash," Lelouch continued.

Roy grabbed the letter and glanced it over, but had enough common sense to not read the letter. "You're strange. Most people keep letters from their parents. Sentiment you know. So what does your mother do?"

Pulling out the second sheet of paper, a scanned copy of what was originally his mother's letter, Lelouch said, "My mother works in the military." Bitterly, he added, "She partakes in the invasions."

"Isn't that good?" Roy asked as he disposed of the letter. "You can earn a lot of honor that way. Lots of opportunities."

Lelouch snorted. "Honor? Honor is a worthless currency of dead men and women."

Roy sat down and looked at him with concern. "That's rather bleak. I would say it measures the strength of someone's character instead. But how did she bug your father then?"

"My father... he is also in the military. That was how they met." It was almost the truth. They had met because of her test piloting the Ganymede.

"I'm sorry," said Roy and he spoke with such honesty that Lelouch looked up, startled. "That must be difficult for you and your sister. That shouldn't happen."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes at the teen, trying to understand, once again, what conclusion he had drawn. Whatever it was, Roy had become noticeably more tolerable as a result... and even friendly. It was strange, but Roy hadn't begun kissing his boots or anything, so his secret was probably safe. Still, it was disconcerting. Perhaps his mother would understand? 

No. He may have been ordered to reply to her, but he wasn't going to ask for her help. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Technology in canon is really behind compared to modern 2018. I'm chalking up this to numerous factors, but a big one is that the Space Race didn't happen. This causes a lot of ripple effects which are rather fun to play with, but also severely limit the surveillance abilities of the Britannian Empire. Should make things more interesting.  
-Saw a post that Suzaku doesn't have a phone.... He really doesn't seem to have one. He even uses Euphie's phone to call Lelouch. I thought Honorary Britannians were allowed to own phones, but this seems not to be the case.  
-A lot of the worldbuilding in Akito makes no sense to me, so I'm officially not bothering with it anymore. I may pay homage to it and reuse some of its characters, but I'm treating it as non-canon, at the same level as the companion novels that exist.
> 
> Author's note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> So lately my chapters have been pretty long which I know some people don't like. I can either make future chapters a little bit shorter or keep them around this length. What do you guys think?
> 
> A03 Readers: A03 doesn't have chapter by chapter stats, so the only way I know if someone is still reading is by reviews. I know it takes a while and is inconvenient, but I don't know if a single person read past chapter 7. I'll keep updating regardless, but I would love to know that I'm not posting into the void.


	15. French Meddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: Of Children and Subterfuge

_ Area Two was the largest region under the control of a single Viceroy within Britannia. It was first established by Ricardo von Britannia when he conquered Canada in 1823 and then extended to the North and Western Coast. Due to its climate, most of Area Two remained unsettled and unexplored until a westward exploratory push in the 1860s which resulted in Alaska joining Area Two. Already larger than any other area in Britannia, it grew even larger when Iceland and Greenland petitioned to join Britannia to stay out of the European conflict. The large landmass made it difficult to govern and react in a timely manner to internal threat. _

_ Canada retained much of its French roots and within the E.U, the French believed that Canada was rightfully their territory. These factors led to massive espionage efforts within Area Two, specifically the Canadian portion. Taking advantage of ineffective governance, the E.U. supplied weapons and trained terrorists. Initially focusing on those with French heritage, operatives began to also focus on Irish refugees who struggled to establish themselves.  _

_ While numerous terrorist cells operated within Area Two, nothing prepared Britannia for the devastating Bombing of Maineige Delac on March 7, 2012. The opening gambit of the elusive Count's Crows created ripple effects within Britannia. Area Two turned into a bloodbath as both sides mounted indiscriminate attacks that often caught civilians in the midst. _

_ — _ Terrorism in Area Two

* * *

**Unknown Location, Pendragon**

Inside her decadent room and out of sight, Marianne gingerly held the letter from Lelouch. It had arrived in the mail at last. Her son had finally written back. He had been rather cold in his reply, writing only the bare minimum, but he had replied. She breathed in deeply and a smile formed on the small childish face of Anya. Her fingers traced his neat penmanship and she could feel a tear forming in her eyes. Her son...

Nunnally had written to her too. The letter, while more verbose and kind than Lelouch's felt colder. It lacked the personal touch of ink gliding across the paper. V.V. had stolen her daughter's sight and with it, a fundamental connection. At least she seemed to be doing well, cheerfully elaborating on the upcoming party she was planning with Milly. Marianne was proud of her daughter for continuing to strive forward and not letting her disability hinder her.

If Lelouch knew of her current predicament, of being unable to return to her body, because a part of her yearned for the return of her legs, he would be disappointed. Very disappointed. 

Marianne set the letter down and glanced at her body hooked up to an I.V. in the corner of the room. It looked like she was sleeping and could wake up any second. Yet, Marianne was trapped outside of it. Without her body, she would be unable to reply to her son. To write a new letter. To greet him when he had military leave. To celebrate her daughter's birthday. She already missed three birthdays.

Walking to her body, Marianne sat down beside it and grasped its hand. She was pathetic. A worthless mother. Lelouch and Nunnally were right to be cross with her. How long had she stayed away? And now? They were growing older and more distant while she masqueraded as a child. The question was what could she do to fix it. Lord Siebenberg had revealed that there were nobles targeting her sweet precious angels. The noble court wasn't safe and, as much as she loathed to admit it, their current anonymity kept them safe. But did that mean she had to leave them alone? Surely there was room for a mother in their lives still.

She wanted to see them.

To hold them.

To fight for them.

Her eyes opened and stared at the paneled ceiling. Familiar aches crossed her body and Marianne grimaced, before smiling. It didn't matter if her body was weak. She would overcome it. For her children. There was no room for doubt anymore. The only path was forward.

"I’m sorry" asked a small delicate voice, and Marianne turned to Anya pressing her head against the ground. “I’m so sorry your majesty. Please forgive me. I’m sorry for being a bother.”

"Shh, sweetie. It’s alright. Can you pass me the phone on the table?" 

Anya nodded hesitantly and Marianne smiled. Charles would take care of things and insure that she remembered nothing of importance. But Marianne would make sure her service was acknowledged. If anything, she could make sure that Anya had refuge from that awful woman. It was the least she could do after co-opting the young girl's body. Especially, because she wasn't foolish enough to discount the possibility that it could happen again.

Anya pressed the phone into Marianne's outstretched hand, bowing and retreating meekly. "Your majesty."

"Thank you Anya. Why don't you sit down. No need to be so formal." Marianne looked down at the phone and sent a quick message to Charles. Anya sat and folded her hands together. Marianne pursed her lips. The poor child looked like she wanted to disappear. "What do you like to do Anya?"

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11**

Tohdoh smiled as he and Lieutenant General Iki passed a few Japanese children collecting scrap and shouting in excitement when they found something rare or particularly shiny. A young girl sprinted past them with her bounty, laughing and pursued by a younger sibling shouting, “neesan”. Britannia might have tried to grind them into dust, but they had failed. There was a glimmer of hope and life continued on. It was up to Tohdoh to nurture the small sparks and let them grow into strong powerful flames.

"We have an additional twenty young men and women that expressed interest in joining. Right now, Narita is self-sufficient enough, but if we continue to grow, we'll need our own supply chain."

Tohdoh nodded as his eyes passed over the various Japanese signs hidden out of the way. Numbers weren't supposed to engage in business, but the underground market was flourishing. People traded goods for food and rarely yen. Origami cranes littered one stall as industrious children worked. Less savory business hid weapons in the back, only visible when a customer flashed them accidentally while walking away. Knives were particularly common and Tohdoh mused that former cooks were making a decent fortune, especially those, selling hot, Japanese meals. 

Tohdoh finally said, "We'll need to do it soon. We cannot become reliant on Britannia. Food is of utmost important. Then we need to distribute medicine and books."

"Are you sure that is wise? We'll be redirecting important resources and we still do not have an adequate funding source."

Tohdoh knew what the late General Katase would have thought. He would have focused all their effort into military might and waste away in the Narita mountains, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But patience could only do so much. Patience was key, but the people of Japan were more important. If the culture of Japan and the very essence of what made them Japanese was lost, no military victory could recapture it. No, they could not be idle.

"Britannia will not protect our people. We will. That's our job. We're not terrorists or criminals, but protectors. And right now, our people need food, medical aid, and time to recover," and then their people would be loyal. There would be those that disagreed but the Japan Liberation Front was for Japan and all those in it.

"And are we going to be able to secure the necessary resources? The Endo house is rumored to be aiding a vigilante group the Namazu in Nagoya and the Haneda are supporting the Fukushu, safe within the E.U."

Todoh snorted. "Rich cowards the lot of them. They can hide in Australia, China, the E.U, and live in the lap of luxury, while we toil away. And when we reclaim Japan, they'll come back, expecting a warm welcome for the meager efforts, despite the fact the Endo sold weapons to Britannia and the Haneda family circumvented the embargo to sell Britannians luxury cars. At least the Kyoto House is honest about their betrayal."

"My grandfather had a will in Australia and some assets out of the country. Would need to show up there myself to claim any of it." Lieutenant General Iki looked to the side as they entered the plaza with Britannian merchants on the side. His voice lowered, for one could never be too careful. "I'd like to wait a while. There's... a chance that he is still alive. But if not, I think he'd support you. It could get us some decent supplies for a couple of months."

It was a nice gesture, but he wasn't going to force the young man to part with his inheritance. Tohdoh silently cursed his own foolishness for not keeping some money offshore. It wouldn't have been a lot, but it would have been something. Instead, he just had hard cold cash and with little Ko, that would soon run dry. 

They walked into the courtyard as Britannians began to mingle in the crowd. Tohdoh raised his eyebrows as he saw a small group of school children, huddled together, browsing the wares. There was a new mall nearby, he would have expected them to go there, but then, the goods were cheaper here.

"They're from Ashford Academy, aren't they? Of course, while Ashford is pushing the envelope allowing commoners and nobles to attend, our own people cannot," bitterly said Lieutenant General Iki.

Tohdoh nodded. "We'll need to find school teachers. Just because Britannia may forbid us from forming schools, does not mean we have to comply. It would go a long way."

The younger man nodded and pulled out a small notebook to make a note. He suddenly stopped. "Is that? Suzaku?"

Turning around, his heart hammering in his chest, Tohdoh caught sight of Suzaku's familiar brown hair. He wasn't in danger. Wasn't doing anything dangerous. He was... working?

"What the hell is he thinking?" Tohdoh hissed and marched forward. 

Looking up from setting down a large box, Suzaku caught sight of him and his face paled. A dark skinned woman shouted at him, and Suzaku hurried inside the stall. Lieutenant General Iki's hand settled on his shoulder and Tohdoh took a deep breath, trying to process the sudden surge of anger inside him. 

Suzaku was bowing his head to Britannia. But he was making money for his family.

Suzaku had found a job. But he wasn't in danger.

Suzaku had accepted... No. 

There had to be a mistake. Tohdoh took a deep breath. Suzaku cared about his country, he had been traumatized by the invasion, and this was just a way of coping. It didn't mean Suzaku would let Britannians roll over him. This was a means to an end. A means of survival. He had to believe that. Nagisa had known. She had told him. Everything was fine.

Suzaku slipped away from the stall and stopped before him. "Tohdoh-Sensei?

His mouth suddenly felt dry. "Suzaku, you don't have to do this."

Green eyes stared at him in confusion. "We need the money."

The woman was staring at him, waiting for him to let Suzaku return. "Suzaku. I'm here now and we've got it under control. I know some people and we'll get food. Everyone will get food, medicine. There's no need to work for... Britannians."

"But that's illegal."

Tohdoh opened his mouth to argue back and closed it again. Illegal? Britannia had taken everything from them and wanted to crush them under its boot. And Suzaku was worried about legality? "We won't get caught. Nobody will get in trouble."

Suzaku shook his head. "It's wrong... Britannia won. We lost."

"And we should just roll over?"

"Yes," Suzaku answered simply as if there wasn't a question in the first place. "Britannia has the power to do whatever it wants. Resisting... will only lead to more death. I don't want anyone else to die."

Lieutenant General Iki interrupted, his voice severe, "Britannia doesn't care if we live or die. It's our duty to resist!"

Suzaku shot back, "And the law exists for a reason! If everyone did whatever they wanted, the world would fall into chaos. I'm going to go back to work now."

Tohdoh now grabbed his subordinates shoulder to stop him from storming after Suzaku. "Let him be."

"He's you student isn't he? The Prime Minister's son. How can he say that!"

"Kururugi-Shushou taught his son to obey the law," Tohdoh explained sadly. And Suzaku had killed his father to save lives. There was still a part of him broken, laying beside his father and the pool of blood. Or maybe it had been lost even earlier when he wandered through the mounds of the dead. "Let him be. He has his own grief, and I will not deny him."

The burning anger and indignation fizzled out within him and Tohdoh suddenly felt drained. Tiredly, he watched Suzaku diligently work with his head bowed. Where was the proud student that he had taught? The war had caused a chasm, and watching his student now, drove home the distance between them. 

Tohdoh wanted to build a bridge and help Suzaku off the ledge that he had inadvertently trapped himself on, but Tohdoh had a duty to Japan; a duty that had to come first. And in committing to helping Japan, his student would be lost. He had failed.

Turning around, Tohdoh returned to the previous subject, "We'll be meeting with the French representative before heading back to the base. It should temporarily solve our cash problem, especially if we can show some strength. I don't want to give them any of our scavenged knightmares yet, but they should sell for a decent profit should the French be unaccommodating."

If Lieutenant General Iki heard his voice crack, he didn't comment. "We can’t trust them. There are rumors that they were involved in an assassination attempt during a peace talk. It doesn't show honor."

"Ah, Empress Marianne. Wouldn't you do the same to take out a dangerous enemy commander. She led the attack on Japan. If the French were successful, they did us a favor." Hopefully, she was dead. She had wanted to kill his student and she and her husband had deceived Japan. Using children as political tools was reprehensible. Not to mention her reprehensible executions in Tokyo.

"I would treat my enemy with honor even if I despised them. The French have just shown themselves to be cowards, unbefitting the legacy of Napoleon and his grand conquest."

Tohdoh lowered his voice as a Britannian passed them with a look of disgust. "It isn't necessarily what happened. Britannia had a tendency of lying to its people. Napoleon's guillotine for example. Any historian worthy of their title, would say it's poor Britannian propaganda, but Britannia still continues to claim that his people dragged him to the executor's block."

"So you'll trust the French spy," spat Lieutenant General Iki.

"Trust. No." Tohdoh turned into an alleyway, eyeing the damaged walls with concern. The bullet holes were recent judging from the plaster on the ground. It hadn't been disturbed yet. His hand drifted to the gun, hidden beneath his bulky clothes. "Stay sharp."

His subordinate fell silent and leaned against the opposing wall, his eyes sweeping the alley. "Come on out."

From behind a small crate, a short man emerged. He looked like a Britannian, even spoke his words with no English accents. "Your group has good eyes. Have that going for you."

Tohdoh frowned. Of course they had competition. There were civilian groups and criminal syndicates who wouldn't lie down their arms. That would make things difficult, especially if they managed to secure French funding as well. The JLF was better equipped and Tohdoh trusted the moral integrity of his subordinates, or at least their obedience to his orders, but rogue agents did not have such stipulation. 

Lieutenant General Iki didn't lower his gun, bust stepped away from the wall and in front of Tohdoh. "And you are?" 

The man stepped forward, no weapons in sight, allowing Tohdoh to get a clearer view. His clothes were of a distinctive Britannian cut and he wore his hair loosely to obscure a small scar on the side of his face. Perhaps it was real. Perhaps it wasn't. Or perhaps this man was a Britannian agent there to root out any resistance movement before it got off the ground.

"Alphonse, but please call me Al. And would you do the honor of introducing yourself. I don't deal with unnamed entities." 

The smile sent shivers down Tohdoh's spine and he refused to look up and search for Sayoko's shadow. She would step in if necessary, but she was his trump card if this turned sour. "Who sent you?"

"Ah, very, very good. You're quite careful. Although the young one here seems to be a little more hot headed. Got him trained well." As his subordinate stepped closer to Tohdoh, Alphonse smiled widely. "I do like you. And I'm from the E.U, of course you wouldn't believe me. No, you're too smart for that. So how much do you want?"

Tests within tests. This man had already confirmed they were rebelling, but surely if he was a Britannian operative, he would be calling in their arrest. Unless he wanted to know more about the size of their group. And cash, it could be tracked. "Medicine. And rations."

The smile slipped and the man stepped back, his heels crunching debris on the ground. "I've got some penicillin on hand. Rations as well. Give me a list and I'll leave it at a drop point."

Lieutenant General Iki lowered his gun a hair. "Why the change?"

A bitter smile formed on Alphonse's face. "Espionage is bitter work. Of course the E.U. would love to support your group with weapons so you can sow dissent. But I will admit, that it never seems to stick. I'll give you the big guns and in a year or two, you'll be gone, and I will be back to begin the cycle anew. Until Britannia catches me off course."

A good soldier. Tohdoh understood. "We don't need weapons right now. Food, medicine, and books would be good. And our group doesn't plan on dying anytime soon. We have people to help."

Alphonse nodded. "Watch the docks. There'll be a ship with a green flare. Container 278 will have your goods. Do something flashy, and more will come. Your group have a name?"

"The Japan Liberation Front. And we accept your conditions."

The spy nodded and walked away, blending into the shadows. Something dark lurked above him and Tohdoh smiled Sayoko. She had been there, ready to strike. Now, he had to find some place to make a statement. A grand statement. One that would show strength to the E.U. and bring aid. But not too intimidating. He couldn't afford the Britannians retaliating. No harm could come to the Japanese as a result of his actions. 

The mines? No. Too many Japanese depended on the meager income to eat.

The viceroy? No. Too intimidating and would cause severe retaliations. They had just been able to subvert Marianne. 

A gift. A gift for Britannia and one that would protect his people at the same time. A corrupt noble or businessman. Someone Britannia would want taken care of, but done in such a way that it showed the strength of the JLF. A way to make a statement. 

"General?" Lieutenant General Iki asked.

Tohdoh turned around, a small smile on his lips. And this way he could show Suzaku that they were saving lives. He didn't have to abandon his student for Japan. He could achieve both things at the same time. It was possible. "Come on Lieutenant General Iki, we have a gift to find."

"A gift?"

"A Britannian criminal. One hurting Japanese as well. We're going to offer them up gift wrapped. It will be a most unique opening act although I expect other groups will be proclaiming themselves soon. We must hurry." Blood would spill in the streets and the E.U. wouldn't care. They weren't allies; they just shared a common enemy. 

Unseen to his subordinate, a small shadow departed. Message received.

* * *

**Maineige Delac, Montreal, Area 2**

Brigit stared at the trickling icicle, watching it melt under the unforgiving sun. There was something wonderful about ice. Mystical in a way. Everyone knew the dangers of fire, but they also used it. But ice was cold. Unrelenting. And burned the unprepared hands. It could burst pipes, wear down machines, and hide the lurking dangers beneath people's feet. It was inspiring and deadly.

Footsteps echoed outside the door and she could hear the key in the lock turning. Brigit let her emotions slide off her and stood tall, straightening her skirt and checking that her shirt was still tucked in. The small mirror behind the candle assured her that her red hair was for once compliant. It didn't matter that she was dressed in peasant garb; she would stand like a noble.

The door opened and the beautiful Lady Amelia Melbourne, Viscount of the Iceplains, with luxurious golden locks and violet eyes, strode forward. Behind her, stood her knight, a young man who stared at her with a harsh scowl. Brigit resisted the urge to wave at him, mockingly. His opinion obviously didn't matter, for Brigit was here now, before his illustrious lady. 

Lady Melbourne wrinkled her nose as she looked at Brigit, before sighing and nodding to her knight. He grimaced and lay his black briefcase down on the ground and then kicked it across to the floor to her.

"And what, Lady Melbourne, have you hired me to do?" Brigit asked as she opened the briefcase and ran her fingers down along the pound notes. They felt real, but she couldn't be too sure. Withdrawing a bill, she held it up to the light, letting it filter through and the ink change color. If it was fake, it was a convincing copy which was enough for her.

The lady wrinkled her nose. "That's the first half of your payment. The second half will be delivered to you upon the completion of your task. I assume... someone of your nature wouldn't work for me for free, even if I pulled the strings for your early release."

Early release. Brigit laughed. "You had no proof my lady. Even your corrupt court would have little to charge me on. But do tell me, what do you think I can do for you. I'm a fiddle player, a rather good one, but you don't appreciate the art, so I wonder what I could offer to one as esteemed as yourself."

Her eyes narrowed. "You may have bought their loyalty from me, but it wouldn't have mattered with Margrave Gottwald's support. He too tires of your constant ridicule. Still, I found your knightmare scores. Defeat Earl Armfort as my champion and you may go on your way to cause trouble elsewhere."

"If you found those, you'll know why I quit. Besides, prison isn't too bad."

The noble glared angrily before smiling cruelly. "Your younger brother Einri, wasn't it? Even with your ample savings from those performances, well, he surely would struggle if I pulled funding from the clinic. Or maybe, I'll press him into service. After all, his kind of people aren't fit in society and accidents happen all the time. A little slip on the ice and their neck is broken."

The carrot and the whip. A most effective combination. Brigit should feel scared, but instead anger coursed through her veins. Yet, she didn't allow herself to show it. Einri would be safe. That had already been insured. The doctor would tend to him always. Lady Melbourne had miscalculated for Brigit never left her weaknesses exposed. But that she thought that Brigit would succumb to such a threat, was patronizing. She withdrew a small slip of paper, prepared for such a moment, from her shoe and kept it hidden within her fist.

"A Duel of Honor? That is... an honor." Brigit said and smirked as the knight scowled at her. It must chaff the idea that he wasn't good enough. "I accept. It's been a while since I've piloted a knightmare... I admit that I miss it. It would be a pleasure to fight for you."

"Good. Let me show you the knightmare."

Brigit stood up, clasping the briefcase and followed Lady Melbourne out of the room. This was indeed the most fortuitous gift to fall in her lap, but truly, nobles were predictable beasts. Of course, Brigit was too. Power was everything and without it.... Well, she would be nothing again. Still it had been all too easy to arrange. A few whispers here, some coins there, and a private performance with her fiddle. Blinded by their greed they were. Nobility did not suit her, but it made an excellent hunting ground. 

A small servant boy, dragging a bucket and mop behind him, brushed past her. Brigit passed the small slip of paper in her right hand to him. Just a few more minutes and the woman would know how she had been played. Revenge was sweet and a thrill of excitement shot up within her. It would be her pleasure to pilot a knightmare again, especially against that arrogant knight of hers.

The fresh cold air of the courtyard greeted them and Lady Melbourne drew her coat tighter. Brigit took a deep breathe and relaxed. The cold was familiar and she felt warm. Two knightmare frames at the edge of the courtyard towered over them both. Walking forward she strode up to Earl Armfort, and bowed. Everything was in place.

The Earl stepped forward. "My champion has arrived. Thank you Lady Melbourne for fetching her. And who will be your champion?"

Red was not a good color on Lady Melbourne. "You! You stole my champion."

Earl Armfort laughed loudly. "Well we can't both have the same champion. And you did challenge me. Or do you mean that there is no one will fight for you. Are you that weak?"

Perfect. Everything was perfect.

"Prepare Sir Rolf's knightmare." She spun around and walked to the side.

The earl turned to her, his hand settling on her shoulder and she suppressed the shudder that yearned to crawl down her spine. No weakness. Not know when she was so close. A little physical contact was nothing. As long as she kept her eye on the prize, everything would work out.

"As agreed," Earl Armfort began, "You'll earn her noble title. Viscount Ceallaigh of the Iceplains has a nice ring to it. This has been a most splendid business arrangement."

Turning around, Brigit plastered a kind smile on her face. "Of course. Your pay is most generous. But the contract please?"

Pulling the contract out of his coat, he chuckled. "I'm quite glad that I'm the highest bidder. But I doubt anyone could top my offer of a noble title and it gives me the most beautiful ace pilot of Britannia."

Her eyes scanned the contract. It was iron clad and signed by Margrave Oberstein and Viceroy Stephanas Dampierre. The earl, despite his rather oblique nature, had stayed true to his word. There was no way she was going to be screwed by this contract although Margrave Oberstein's involvement was concerning. She would rather have kept him out of this contract and surely he foresaw the consequences. By all accounts, he was a shrewd man. 

"This is in order. Thank you Earl Armfort." She bowed and walked to the knightmare, beginning her ascent to the cockpit. Behind her, the earl pouted.

The hatch closed over her head and, secure in the silence, she laughed. This was exhilarating. The controls responded to her eagerly and she closed her eyes as she developed a feel for the machine. Conviction. Passion. All elements essential to piloting a knightmare. Without it, a pilot was useless. And that pitiful knight of the Viscount had no passion. Her victory was assured.

At last, his knightmare, painted in glorious silver, rolled into the courtyard. He did look like a charming knight of the old legends. But knights weren't heroes. No. Not to her or her family. They had always been the oppressor. Too bad her own knightmare wasn't green, it would have been a befitting color, instead it was a dull grey. No need to waste paint on a commoner after all. Well, that wouldn't be the case for much longer.

The signal was given. And the knight charged.

She slipped by his blow, letting the wind shake her frame. Good. It hadn't scratched the surface. She hadn't lost her touch.

Slowly, moving like an enormous beast, he turned around. The slash harken shot forward, aiming for her own cockpit. 

Oh. He was going for a kill. This had just become much more exciting. Her chest tightened as energy surged through her veins and she stepped to the side with the grace of a master fiddliest and their bow. In the end, there was barely any difference between the skillful dance of fingers and the rhythmic motion of the bow to a knightmare. She played them both, equally well.

The knight charged again, his rifle shooting bullets and the ants beneath their armored feet, scurried out of the way. She had underestimated him. He had passion. The passion of death. It seemed the Viscount's knight mirrored her more than Brigit had thought. It didn't matter.

It was time to end this.

She didn't dodge the next blow. Instead, she leaned, her hands grabbing the metallic arm. Knightmares had weak shoulders. It was why they had shoulder pads to prevent bullets from disturbing the delicate mechanism. But with just the right amount of pressure.... The metal groaned. 

The arm froze in midair.

With just enough pressure, the joint could buckle and grind into the mechanism, making the arm a dead weight. She could imagine his confused face, but she didn't give him any respite. Her leg bore down into his chest and the knightmare flew into the courtyard wall. The wall cracked under the weight and slowly began to crumble. The ants scurried further away. 

She walked forward slowly, readying her arm to tear out his cockpit. He could see her, she knew. She walked forward slowly, relishing the panic he must be feeling. The certainty of knowing death was coming.

He ejected.

In the end, he didn't have what it took to win. He wasn't willing to die. A pity.

According to the rules of Duels of Honor, Brigit brought her knightmare to a stop and stepped outside. Victory was hers. She lowered herself to the ground, rejoining the ants of the world, and smiled in amusement as Margrave Gottwald tried to calm down a seething Lady Melbourne. Earl Armfort walked over, intent on gloating. 

Predictable. She scoffed and turned away. The contract was secure in her coat. She had no reason to stay any longer. It was best if she was off.

Nodding at the small servant boy who she had passed the message to, Brigit passed the guards and entered the building. The servant boy fell into line behind her. 

"All done Brie, just like ya asked. Need me ta do anything else?"

"No." Brigit walked forward eagerly and noted in amusement as guards rushed towards the courtyard. The former Viscount had to be putting up quite a fuss. She almost felt sorry for the woman. Almost.

"Ya gonna act differently now that ya noble?" 

She glared at the boy. "Art, this is just a means to an end. Now keep your mouth shut."

He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders protectively. She smiled. He feared her, as he should. Only fools thought her innocent. Fools like the Earl Armfort and Amelia Melbourne. It was fate that it would end this way. The strong devoured the weak. And Britannia was weak.

The sound of the blast reached them first. The strong gust of hot wind knocked them to the ground. Brigit laughed as turned her head to watch the flames eagerly rise to meet the sky. There was no ice anymore, just pure destructive fire. The air rushed inwards again and her ears were ringing. She could see emergency services closing in. 

Nobody could have survived. All according to plan. Predictable fools they were. And now, she had everything.

* * *

**Glenshire Town, Near Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch stepped off the bus and into the small town. The air was clean and fresh. Invigorating. Footsteps echoed off the ground, in wonderful dissonance. The sweet scent of the bakery drifted through the air. It was amazing. 

Alex ran out of the bus and eyed the locals hungrily, his eyes drifting to their purses, before tearing them away regretfully. Lelouch silently vowed to keep an eye on Alex and on his own wallet. Pulling it out, he counted the meager coins and the fresh new bills courtesy of his first paycheck from the military. Unfortunately, there weren't enough coins to use the pay phone.

"Lelouch!" shouted a familiar voice and Lelocuh looked up, his stomach dropping as he recognized Rick smiling like an idiot.

Roy stopped beside him. "Thought you said you didn't have any family greeting you today."

"He is my neighbor." Lelouch replied. It was too late to run and pretend that he hadn't seen the annoying redhead. 

Rick jogged over, and Roy, the traitor, moved out of the way. Ruffling his hair, he said, "It's good to see you again kiddo. Was worried that the military would spit you out. But you still got all your limbs."

"It's training, I wasn't going to lose my limbs."

Rick snorted and turned to Roy and Alex. "Ah, you've got two friends. I totally won the bet."

Lelouch stared up at him, aghast. "What bet?"

"If you were lying in your letters about having friends. Gwen seems to think you would lie to us, but not me, I knew I could trust you. You just have this magnetic personality about you." Rick laughed and stepped back. "Well they're invited. Being the good friends we are, we heard your complaints. We got a kitchen. They're all waiting there."

"A kitchen?" Possibilities ran through Lelouch's mind and he smiled. Finally, he could make something truly edible. Of course, he had to decide on what to cook. It would have to serve many people and not be too complicated or expensive, but maybe they could get their hands on some decent spices. He hadn't had anything decently spiced for ages.

"You can cook?" Roy looked at him skeptically. Alex too narrowed his eyes.

Rick laughed. "Sure can. Can't change a light bulb, but cooking is one thing that he is good at that can't be done with pen and paper. It's a real treat too. You'll love it."

"Did someone mention food?" Frederick asked, sneaking up on them with Edgar. "No complaining rich boy."

Roy blushed and Lelouch fought to keep his own face blank. 

"More friends Lelouch?" Rick asked as he looked at the older teens. "That's impressive."

Lelouch smiled at his two squad mates. "You can come as well if you wish. Anyone else?"

Frederick shrugged. "Henry already has plans. So what are we eating?"

"Don't know yet," Lelouch mused, "it depends on what we have. I'm thinking of some sort of stew since we're a rather large group. Pasta would be great as well and cheaper."

They talked amiably as they headed into the village. Rick happily grilled Alex and Alex happily obliged, sharing every embarrassing detail about Lelouch. Had he done some to upset Alex? The other boys laughed and Lelouch slowly shook his head. 

Roy smiled. “You’re forgetting the time Lelouch had to do a pull up. I was embarrassed standing across the room, and then he fell down and had to desperately jump back up while the Drill Sergeant yelled at him for being a toothpick. Although… if I remember, you had your own problems that day.”

Alex flushed. “It’s not ma fault that I’m short! You’re the freakishly tall one. And I’ve got embarrassing stories on you too.” 

“Oh do tell,” Rick leaned in closer. “The more embarrassing the better.”

Roy puffed out his chest. “I’ve no need to feel embarrassed. I’ve succeeded in all tasks assigned to me, not like the rest of you jokers.”

Staring at Roy, Lelouch could only shake his head. Surely he wasn’t that oblivious. Alex, nowhere near as subtle, burst out laughing. Frederick joined quickly after, while Edgar wheezed for air.

Edgar, still gasping for air, “You seriously didn’t mean that. Right?”

“What?” Roy answered, looking at them in confusion. “I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about.”

The squad leader was oblivious. It was official and this time when everyone began laughing, Lelouch couldn’t suppress his own chuckle.

“Lelouch laughed!” Rick exclaimed. “It’s a miracle… Or the end of the world.”

“He totally is. Dammit.” Alex said staring at Lelouch who quickly schooled his face. Turning to Edgar, he pulled out a pound note and handed it over.

Lelouch glared at all of them. They were betting on his life. What had he done to deserve this? “I’m not talking to any of you anymore.”

Rick began opening his mouth, a familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

“And if you say anything about what that brat of your younger sister, Nikki, did, I won’t cook for you.”

“Fine you win Lelouch. Guess fun time is over.” His eyes raked over everyone else present and settled on Roy. “Rich boy right? Lelouch might be fun to tease, but you look like you’ll be a close second.

Alex began recounting their first meeting, as Roy turned bright red, “So Lelouch called our Roy’s name and he was standing there, ten feet away, looking at us all imperiously. Because, guess what, we were supposed to go over to him! Lelouch and I didn’t even know his name.”

“I actually did,” Frederick commented, “He looks kinda like his dad, but it was too hilarious to see his face when I said I recognized Lelouch and Alex instead,” he smirked and looked at Roy, “You looked so insulted.”

Rick laughed appreciatively and stopped in front of a quaint old house. “We’re here. Belongs to a friend of Gwen’s. And kitchen is all yours kiddo.”

Lelouch took the opportunity to take a strategic retreat into the kitchen. It turned out that Gwen had thought ahead and brought various vegetables and some left over scraps. Unfortunately, no interesting spices, and Lelouch settled with pepper, mustard, and onions to bring some flavor to the meal. He missed Suzaku's kitchen. It had spices from all over the world and fresh curry. Not to mention an abundance of cinnamon. 

The pot simmered and he gently set the lid down. It was nice to cook again even if Nunnally wasn't there to enjoy it. Next time he saw her, he would cook a Japanese meal for her. It would be wonderful, but this... this was nice as well.

Gwen stepped into the kitchen, smiling. "Need any help Lelouch. I know you said we were getting in the way, but I feel kind of bad for letting you cook for all of us."

"Really, it's fine. I like cooking. Everyone can help with clean up, besides, it's almost ready." Lelouch turned to the oven and watched the golden crust rise. It would need just a little longer.

"It smells really good Lelouch. You should sign up to be a cook. Classes start next week, right? You'll need to decide on what to specialize in. If you're lucky, you'll end up being good at the simulators. Knightmare pilots make lots of money."

Lelouch grunted. He wasn't good enough of a pilot, especially to earn enough money to pay back the knightmare. It was a foolish dream meant to entice people into debt. For a few, it would pan out, but for most, it would be a waste of money and time. And... Lelouch wasn't too thrilled at the idea of piloting one, not after seeing the destruction to Japan.

She sighed and started cleaning some of the used pots. "Nunnally is doing mostly fine according to Allie. There was some bullying going on, but they're managing."

"Bullying?" Lelouch turned to face Gwen. Nunnally hadn't said anything. Someone dared to hurt his sister.

She rolled her eyes. "Nunnally is fine Lelouch. But you do the exact same thing," she stretched out the spoon and pointed at him. "You and Nunnally keep lying so no one else worries. But now I'm constantly worrying because when you say you're fine, it doesn't mean you're fine."

He hadn't thought of it that way. Lelouch hung his head. "My apologies. I should have thought of how my actions would come across."

Gwen threw up her hands and smacked the soapy spoon on his head. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. You're not a burden. It's okay to rely on others and ya need to stop acting like everyone's your enemy." She swallowed and lowered the spoon. "Friends rely on each other. We're friends aren't we?"

Lelouch nodded.

"Then let me help you." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. "You're upset. Tell me why."

"I'm not." She looked at him in disbelief. "I'm happy right now. This feels wonderful and I wasn't expecting it and thank you. Really thank you."

Her eyes bore into him, pinning him in place.

Lelouch glared at her. "Fine. I miss Nunnally. Training is hell. We barely sleep, then wake up, and train, until we sleep again. I barely have a moment to think and when I do, I now have to think about why my father wrote me a stupid letter."

Something flickered in her eyes and she rested a hand on his shoulder. "You don't talk much about your family. Nunnally doesn't either."

"I hate them," Lelocuh declared, surprising himself with his vehemence. "They hurt people... and people aren't supposed to be like that. Rick... he's always nice. Always cares and tries to make people smile. And he expects nothing in return! And you're just listening to me rant and I shouldn't be telling you any of this..."

Gwen pulled him into a hug. "Lelouch. I'm not going to use you. You're my friend. I want you to be happy. I won't tell anyone."

He wanted to believe her and trust in her, but he pulled away from her hug. There was too much at risk. He couldn't endanger Nunnally like that. Gwen looked at him, unable to hide the hurt in her eyes. Before she could say anything, her phone rang. She listened quietly and her face paled and her hands shook in horror. She snapped it shut and stared off into space. 

"There's been a terrorist attack in Area Two." Her eyes returned to Lelouch. "I'm sorry. This is work. I've got to go."

Lelouch watched her leave feeling as if he should have said something. A terrorist attack in Area Two. It had to have been big for Gwen to be called in urgently. Somehow, it affected even the Homeland. His eyes turned to the simmering pot and he slowly lifted the lid. He would have to wait like everyone else to hear the news. The lid shook and he set it down on the counter. Fort Necessity was too far North, if they didn't have enough soldiers to deal with the crisis, they would use the recruits. He would be breaking his promise to Nunnally.

He was no longer safe through no fault of his own.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Canon says sakuradite was discovered in the 14th-15th century. And that Marco Polo discovered sakuradite in Japan. Not sure how I feel about Marco Polo discovering it in Japan. I would have thought it would be discovered more recently like aluminum which was discovered in 1825.   
-There is absolutely no list regarding what Britannia conquered between the Philippines and the Middle East. This would be somewhat useful information since Africa turning into seven separate areas seems like a bit much. Anyone got any ideas? Megiddo (which has a wiki) has an idea that sort of works so I might stick to that.  
-Why are the names a bit weird? I'm terrible at naming and either mush words together from Google Translate or grab a handy dandy website 2000 names where they're sorted by origin and grab one from there. As a result, I'm using some older spellings for names and right now I've been using quite a few Irish and French names.
> 
> Author's Note:  
You guys said you didn't mind longer chapters and thus I present my longest one yet. To be honest, I thought I would be disappointing all you long chapter lovers with one that was 5k, but it turned out to be 7k. Shows what I know.  
Thank you for all the reviews. I enjoy reading them and they do have a minor influence on what I write. What did you like? Dislike? Thoughts?


	16. Ghost of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Chapter Title: The Not Christmas Themed Chapter For Christmas

** _February 2, 1993_ **

_ The E.U. and China are starting military actions in Area 6, South America. As a result, Emperor Brandon and father negotiated a ceasefire while they focus on expelling the foreign invaders. There are also rumors of the French sponsoring terrorism in Area 2. It's a contentious situation. The Emperor doesn't want father to gain too much fame in repelling the invasion in Area 6. Father gets to be home more often at least. He's spending a lot of time with Gabrielle, according to the servants. Apparently, she needs to have a child for the agreement with her family to work. People talk about them in hushed voices, but never tell me anything. I still listen. I don't care if it is "adult stuff."  _

_ With this tentative peace, I hope I'll be able to see my siblings again. It's rather boring constantly traveling with Father. So far, there have been no assassination attempts, for which I am grateful. I do get to meet many other noble children as father tries to gather support. The girls constantly giggle. I admit that I am afraid to be seen with them. Arranged marriages are all to real. Although there are whispers that Cornelia should be married to Emperor Brandon's son. I've never met him, yet I doubt he would be good enough for Cornelia. I have a feeling, she won't be a very girly girl. _

_ —Excerpts from Odysseus's Journal _

* * *

**Maineige Delac, Montreal, Area 2**

Rubble crunched beneath Arthur Greenford's feet as he surveyed the damage. To think such damage was possible in a time of peace. He bit his lips angrily and watched as a clean up crew shoveled through the debris, looking for bodies. On the far right, a relief tent had been set up as the medics tended to those injured by the concussive blast. So far, they had found no survivors from within the manor. The fire must have consumed them.

The numbers were responsible. No one else was capable of such savagery. Arthur turned on his heels and marched to the tent. Margrave Gottwald had been at the manor for business... and with no sign of him, Arthur had to accept the worst. Margrave Gottwald was dead: consumed in a fiery inferno. His death robbed the Purist Party of a great leader.

His eyes spotted a young noble with familiar teal hair, carrying a shovel as he ambled through the debris. Jeremiah. The explosion had also robbed him of a father. Arthur frowned and wondered if he should aid the boy and console him. Jeremiah might have sworn loyalty to the commoner Empress, but he was still a pure noble and the young boy that Arthur used to play chess with. 

Jeremiah crumbled to the ground. Arthur tore his eyes away. He wouldn't help. Not yet. He would allow the boy a moment to grieve, to process the untimely death of his father before Arthur offered his own comfort. It wouldn't be well received at the moment.

Within the tent, he saw the medics darting between various patients lying on the cots. Servants mostly, lucky enough to be outside of the manor. A guard stood rigid by the entrance, his hand resting on his machine gun, and his eyes watching carefully. 

"ID, my lord," the guard ordered.

Pushing down the humiliation, Arthur withdrew his badge and passed it over. Proper decorum could be set aside in the wake of such a devastating attack. Just this one he would let the slight slide. "Any witnesses?"

The guard pointed to a red haired woman with tear tracks glistening on her face and nursing a tea. "Brigit Buteau. Earl Armfort's boon grants her the title of Viscount of the Iceplains."

Arthur scowled. There wasn't a hint of noble blood in her features: a commoner. Still, there was something familiar about her name. Something that he couldn't place at the moment. He strode forward and observed her. Her posture was perfect, yet she clutched the tea like an old hag.

Her hazel eyes met his coolly. "My lord?" 

"Margrave Greenford. How did you attain the Viscountcy? I find it a bit convenient."

Her eyes widened and he could see tears forming in her eyes. "They're all dead, aren't they? I can't believe... I never wanted this."

The tears began to flow and Arthur felt his chest tighten at the awkward display. "Yet, for all your tears, you're a noble for now. No matter how much someone of your... worth does not deserve it. I wonder if your claim will hold up before the courts."

She hiccuped and wiped her tears with her long sleeve. "Lady Melbourne was conspiring against Lord Armfort. I informed him and he made me his champion..." she trailed off and suddenly started sobbing again. "I can't believe he's dead. Not after everything he did for me."

Swallowing, Arthur pushed through the vague sense of guilt at causing her to cry. "You fought in a Duel of Honor?"

She nodded. "With knightmares. I'm a decent pilot... and he trusted me." Looking up again, her teary eyes stared at him. "You'll find those who were responsible, right?"

"That isn't my responsibility... but yes."

"Thank you." She smiled and stared at him with wide hopeful eyes. She looked absolutely dreadful.

Arthur sneered. He was wasting his time. It was doubtful she knew anything and only luck had led to her survival, but still, he had a duty to his friend. Lord Gottwald would not go unavenged. "What were you doing before the blast?"

"I was leaving... to see my younger brother and celebrate with him." Buteau suddenly brought up her hand and stared at the cracked watch. "Do you know the time Lord Greenford? My brother... he must be so worried about me. I have to let him know I'm okay."

Ignoring her foolish request, "Anything suspicious before that?"

The commoner upstart had the audacity to look betrayed. "No. Lady Melbourne and Lord Gottwald were talking when I left. I think Lord Armfort wanted to, well, gloat. One of the serving boys followed me. I think he wanted my autograph."

Arthur stared at her as the nagging feeling of familiarity grew stronger. He knew of her somehow. But as he suspected, she was proving to be an absolutely useless witness. "May I see the contract?"

From beneath her coat, she retrieved a slightly singed roll of paper. He unfurled it and stared at the signed names at the bottom. Oberstein and the Viceroy had both signed off. There would be little that the courts could do to stop her claim. And suddenly he knew who she was. "I wouldn't expect a talented violinist as yourself to pilot knightmares. Although your stage name is Brigit Aubert, isn't it?"

"It was just fortune that led to me to knightmares. And you are correct Lord Greenford, but I wouldn't think I am talented enough to catch your discretionary eye."

Despite himself, Arthur snorted. She played in the Britannian Symphony as the fifth chair five years ago before she recused herself for unknown reason. Had she continued, she would surely have made second chair, or even first, by now. "I wouldn't undersell yourself. And while I may not find much worth in the symphony, the company I keep does. Why did you quit?"

Her face, formerly expressive, became blank. "My parents passed away and I did not have the time to attend rehearsals as well as take care of my brother. Is that all? Or do you wish to continue this interrogation? I really should be heading home. My brother worries so."

Not bothering to reply, Arthur walked out of the tent. Oberstein certainly knew more about the new enigmatic viscount. He would have never signed the contract otherwise although what potential he saw in supporting her, was beyond him. As always, Oberstein's motives were impossible to discern. Perhaps he wanted to give her enough rope to hang herself and hold her as a shining example of the inherent weakness of commoners. Perhaps he had just intended to eliminate Lady Melbourne and deliver the greatest insult possible. Or perhaps there was another reason.

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch stood at perfect attention as the Drill Sergeant entered the room, followed by an elderly man dressed in a neat military uniform: an officer. A noble. The Drill Sergeant stepped backward and the officer strode between the neat columns of the assembled platoon with measured steps. His discerning eyes swept over them until he stopped before Edgar.

"Straighten your uniform Private. Show respect to your glorious nation of Britannia."

"Yes sir," Edgar shouted back.

The noble leaned forward and growled. "If you do not know an officer's rank, you'll address them as my lord. Although perhaps the problem is that you’re blind, given my rank is on my collar." He tugged on his collar and Lelouch could make out a small crown, then turned and glowered at the Drill Sergeant. "It seems you have been slacking in teaching these boys their manners. I will be taking them for the rest of the day."

"Yes Major Maxwell." The Drill Sergeant saluted and left the room without a second glance.

Lelouch resisted the urge to fidget. The Drill Sergeant, while never nice, was familiar. Lelouch might not understand the man, but he apparently did care for their lives and he was a known quantity. Now, he was left with a strange lord and Lelouch felt oddly exposed. He shivered as Major Maxwell's eyes passed over him. 

"Until now, your instructor has focused on making you physically capable of fulfilling duties... although it seems to have been wasted on some of you."

Next to Lelouch, Alex failed to hide his bristle. Unfortunately, it was true. Neither he nor Lelouch had gained significant muscle mass although Lelouch suspected that their true age might be the cause. They certainly worked hard enough.

"Now, you will learn how to take orders, who to take them from, and the basic responsibilities of a knight in case any noble is ever asinine to take one of you sorry lots as their Knight of Honor or by some miracle, one of you is actually accepted into the Knightmare Corps. Moving on, I'm Major Maxwell. My father is Earl of New Cambridge. What would my noble title be?"

Down the row, Roy raised his hand confidently and Major Maxwell called upon him. "You would be a Viscount."

"Wrong. Anyone else?"

Lelouch cringed. Roy had been almost entirely correct, but Major Maxwell had given no hint how close Roy had been. 

Major Maxwell shook his head. "I see that I truly have my work cut out for me. Ignorance is not an excuse. Everyone. Drop down and give me twenty push-ups."

The ground struck his palms as Lelouch complied. His arms bent readily, and unlike the first night, he actually managed the pushups without turning into a seal that slowly peeled its torso off the ground. Barely, but it was an improvement. The platoon clambered to attention and snapped to attention in sync. The room fell oddly silent after the cacophony of noise.

"What is my noble title?"

Zit raised his hand cockily and everyone stared at him in exasperation. "Lord Pain-in-the-arse."

The idiotic teen never learned. "Twenty more pushups."

This time, Lelouch resembled a seal by the end. Despite his jelly arms, he raised his hand and waited for the noble to call upon him. It would once again call attention to him, but Lelouch didn't need to do a couple hundred pushups as everyone cycled through every possible title. Major Maxwell called on him and Lelouch replied confidently, "None my lord. You are the heir and until you either inherit your father's title or are bequeathed one, you don't have one. Viscount Maxwell or Viscount of one of your father's subsidiary holdings would be a courtesy title."

Major Maxwell did not smile and his face betrayed no emotion. "Correct. Private?"

Someday, Lelouch would learn to keep his mouth shut. Who was he kidding? He was allergic to standing by. "Lamperouge."

"My lord."

"Lamperouge, my lord."

The major looked at him in the eyes. "You thought it would be funny to keep that knowledge to yourself?"

"No, my lord."

Then the smile formed. It was too wide and shallow, but a smile like those Lelouch had seen on the knightmare pilots. A smile of sadistic glee. He missed the Drill Sergeant already. "Well, if Private Lamperouge knows everything, then why don't the rest of you. Drop down and give me twenty and you Private Lamperouge, let's see how much further your knowledge goes. How do you address a Duke?"

"Your grace, my lord." The rest of the platoon groaned loudly and Lelouch had a feeling that his bunk bed would not be safe that night.

Major Maxwell narrowed his eyes. "Royalty?"

The man loved his trick questions and Lelouch knew he should probably get it wrong and accept whatever punishment the lord wished to bestow, but he couldn't. Lelouch did not bow his head except on his own terms and never would he bow to someone, so petty. "Your majesty for the Emperor. Your highness for the prince and princesses... my lord."

The platoon slowly straightened and Major Maxwell was unable to hide the quiet fury within his eyes as he glared at Lelouch. "How many wives does the Emperor have?"

Seriously? Lelouch doubted anyone knew except those who wrote articles for gossip rags and even then, there was no certainty that they knew the truth. Did the major even know? Lelouch certainly did not keep track of how many women his father married every year. He had no interest in knowing such facts about his father. Settling for a guess, Lelouch tried, "Ninety-three?"

Lelouch dropped to the ground to do twenty push-ups as Major Maxwell called on the next person to answer the question. Somehow Alex answered correctly and later that night, when Lelouch asked him how. He had simply replied, "Ya told me I need to practice ma reading. And magazines are cheap."

Foiled by gossip rags. How unbelievable. Before sleep claimed him that night, Lelouch considered the terrifying possibility that Major Maxwell might actually read said gossip rags. His only solace was that Nunnally would find the entire incident absolutely hilarious.

* * *

**Maineige Delac, Montreal, Area 2**

Arthur caught sight of Jeremiah sitting at the edge of the table with a bottle of beer in his hand. Grabbing his mug, he walked over and sat down beside him. "We'll catch them Jeremiah."

Jeremiah finished the last of his beer and raised the bottle to ask for a refill. One of the servants rushed forward to replace it, caught sight of Arthur shaking his head, and returned. Jeremiah slurred, "What d'ya do that for?"

Rolling his eyes, Arthur gently tugged the bottle away. "You're drunk. Why don't you eat some real food and then get some sleep?"

"Don't wanna."

Twenty-two was too young to lose one's father, but it happened. Death came to all, regardless of age, when it was time. "Jeremiah. You can't help your father like this."

He hiccuped and tried to snatch the empty bottle back, but missed. "Nobody can help him. Only ash there." He paused and started to giggle. "Ya know what's funny? We burned the Elevens. And floaty floaty to the sky, they went. Bu'now, they burned us. And now we're ash. All spread out around us. Nobody can pick that up and put'em back together."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur pushed the bottle further away and waved the server over to order some bread. Turning back to Jeremiah, he warded off the clumsy attempt to regain the bottle. With a quick lunge, Jeremiah tried again, but his fingers pushed it to the side and it shattered on the ground. Jeremiah looked at him sadly. "It was empty? Why did ya do that for?"

"You're drunk Jeremiah. Now," he pushed the newly arrived bread basket over to him, "have some bread before you embarrass your father's memory. He didn't raise a drunkard as a son."

Jeremiah snorted. "Can't stop me now. Can't yell at me either for being a guard for Lady Marianne. She's so pretty, but then, I failed. I always fail."

And he was crying. Arthur gingerly patted the youth on his back. Everyone was crying around him today, which made sense considering the circumstances, but wasn't any less awkward. "You didn't fail Jeremiah. You're young and you helped finish of the Elevens. Piloted gloriously from what I've heard. You're one of the best knightmare pilots we have. You made your father proud."

"I didn't protect Lady Marianne. And now... she can't move her legs. And Nunnally saw her and now she can't see. It's all my fault. I should have been better." Jeremiah grabbed a bread roll and stuffed it into his mouth. Arthur frowned. He hadn't heard of the young princess being blind. "And Dad would've been home if I had been a better son. We were shouting. And it's all my fault."

Jeremiah had a guilt complex. That made things more difficult, but Jeremiah would be easier to manipulate and protect from unsavory elements as a result. The Purist Party did not have to end here. And Arthur would take care of his friend's son and show them the way and allow them to escape their foolish crush that shackled him to the commoner Empress. Arthur gently rubbed Jeremiah's back. "Your father doesn't blame you. He was proud of you. And you can continue to make him proud."

Unfocused eyes looked at him. "Really?"

"Yes really. The numbers did this, didn't they?"

Jeremiah nodded. "I'll kill them. Find them and bring glory to my family name. And then I'll join in Princess Cornelia and we'll conquer the Philippines with Lady Marianne's help. And the rest of the world... and there'll be no more killings."

Even drunk, all the boy thought about was how to serve that witch. Arthur sighed. "You can't do that Jeremiah. You have to protect your sister."

Jeremiah blinked. "How am I supposed to tell her? She's sixteen. Dad was looking at betrothal contracts for her. Everything was supposed to be perfect, but it isn't. Because he's dead."

"You're going to be Margrave Gottwald now Jeremiah. You have a duty. You can't do that if you're galvanizing off in foreign lands."

"What would Dad wanna me do? I can't leave Princess Cornelia. She has what's left of my honor." Jeremiah spread his arms dramatically and then slumped, his head hitting the table with a resounding thud. Grumbling, he muttered, “Am a coward. Cowardly… and weak… Can’t save anyone… even the princess. Guilford did that.”

Arthur forced a smile and resisted the urge to think ill of the dead. It was unfathomable that Gottwald would leave his son in the company of such ill advised figures, but Arthur couldn't change the past. Only the future. "The Viceroy will find the ones responsible soon enough Jeremiah. But you, you need to go home. Be with your sister. Prepare the funeral. And then stay safe. Out of the battlefield."

Jeremiah’s glassy eyes focused on something only he could see. Slowly, he mused, "Safe? But am a soldier... What honor is there if I'm not risking m’life for my liege?"

"Your family has plenty of honor Jeremiah. Now that you're the margrave, all your dishonor is gone. No one will hold the actions of youth against you, but you have to stay alive to protect your sister. If you die, she becomes the margrave... and I know you don't think you're ready, but how do you think she will feel?"

Nodding, Jeremiah and sat upright to gaze into Arthur’s eyes. "Thank you... Arthur. You always looked out for me. But... what am I supposed to do? I was going to fight, grow old, and then, when my hair turned white, take up my noble title."

That was the dream and Arthur laughed. It was a dream that few realized, but it was better than the reality that confronted Jeremiah now where death arrived with no warning. Jeremiah would have many enemies and Arthur would make sure that the boy survived those early formative years. Jeremiah didn't have the temperament yet to avoid making costly mistakes. He needed a safe environment to grow. One where nobles were beholden to Arthur and potential enemies lacked fangs. "Go to Area Eleven."

Jeremiah blinked and started to stand up. "Eleven? But that's far, far away. Cross the ocean. It'll take forever to get there… Why?"

Arthur nodded. "Not this moment. After everything else is taken care of. There was an assassination attempt in Area Eleven, remember? You can hunt down those Numbers, stay in the military, and maintain order. The Purist Party needs you there. Your father would have wanted this."

"The Purist were very, very important to Dad. I didn't like them, because you're mean to Lady Marianne. She's amazing... But I can protect her... from enemies. And then, she'll know." Jeremiah stopped his slurred speech and looked down. "Arthur, I don't feel so good."

"Let's get you to bed Jeremiah. Sleep off the alcohol."

Bleary eyes blinked and Jeremiah stood up and swayed. Leaning on Arthur, Jeremiah whispered loudly, "You're a good friend... like an uncle. Or something. Dad's best friend."

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch glared at the author of his history textbook, Lance Gale, with hatred. History should have been a breeze, but instead, it was Lelouch's worst subject. If Lelouch had known nothing about history, it would have been easy. Instead, he was confronted by a textbook that was subtly wrong in how it described events. Lelouch remembered the lessons of his own tutors, distant as they may be, and the book was definitely wrong.

Roy set down his own bag besides Lelouch. "It's not the book's fault that you're bad at history."

Lelouch glared at him and slipped it within his own bag. Knight lessons would be starting soon and Lelouch had no desire to give Major Maxwell another reason to target him. "It most definitely is."

Looking up at the ceiling, Roy pressed his hands together in a mock prayer. "Please, please, let it be something besides posture."

"Don't fancy walking around with a book on your head again?" Lelouch asked as he grabbed his math book and set it on his own head.

Roy glared at him. "You're a freak of nature. It's like your head is secretly flat or something." He turned and grabbed Alex, trying to sneak around their argument. "Don't you agree?"

Alex glanced at both of them. A small mischievous smile formed and he grabbed the history book from his own bag and set it on his head. "Easy."

"Traitor," Roy muttered. "How do you two make it look so easy? Is it because you're short and skinny? It definitely is."

Alex shrugged and caught the book as it slid off his head. "Pickpocketing is much harder. We should learn that. More useful than balancing a book on one's head anyway."

Lelouch didn't respond to the raised eyebrow from Roy and slipped his book back into the bag. There was no way to explain that he and Nunnally had to do the same exercise under the strict eye of their tutor. Good posture was very important and even his mother had mastered the exercise. She, of course, had learned to do it while practicing her forms. Suzaku, probably, had done a similar exercise. His friend was a fitness freak.

The door slammed shut behind Major Maxwell and his knight, ending all conversation. The cart, that the knight had been pulling, rolled to a stop and allowed the assembled privates to catch a glimpse of its content: swords. Lelouch swallowed, his chest suddenly feeling tighter. He knew the basics, even if he hadn't touched a sword in years. Why was he nervous?

"Everyone grab a sword and pair off," ordered Major Maxwell.

Lelouch walked behind Roy and let his fingers curl around the hilt of the blade. It was cold. Wrapped in leather. He felt like there should be a tassel, but there was none. Alex's hand settled on his shoulder, pulling Lelouch back to reality.

"You okay?" Alex asked. "You were trembling there for a minute."

Lelouch nodded and pulled the sword free and walked to the wall to face off against Alex. The sword was heavy in his hands and as the instructor ordered them to stand en garde, Lelouch felt his heart hammering in his chest. Two swords clanged as Major Maxwell and his knight demonstrated in front of the class. 

Everything smelled like sulfur and plaster. 

Lelouch raised the blade, a phantom tassel pressed against his wrist.

Distantly, Alex called, "Lelouch? Are you alright?"

Glass crunched on the floor and Lelouch could feel his own heart beating faster. He was supposed to relax. He couldn't. Blood was pooling on his hand and he could hear something, no someone, gurgling. The sword fell out of his grasp as blood pooled on his arm.

It clanged on the ground. Alex stood before him. His mouth moving, but no sound reaching him. Lelouch fell to his knees, vomiting. He... he had... killed someone that night. That night when an assassin had stalked him and Nunnally. The white tassel had been stained red in blood. His stomach heaved again. There was no escape. Not from this... he had killed someone.

"Private Lamperouge!"

Lelouch couldn't move. He was trapped beneath the cabinet. Nunnally besides him.

"Private Lamperouge!"

Glassy eyes with something red stared at him. The eyes... why weren't they normal?

"Private Lamperouge!"

He was asking something... and he was so young. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. He had killed a child. Who sent a child to assassinate someone?

Something struck him across the cheek and Lelouch opened his eyes, which he hadn't even realized were closed, to stare at Roy. "Lelouch. It's alright. Breathe."

He opened his mouth and sweet oxygen filled him, battling within his lungs, for space. Roy was whispering and even Major Maxwell was looking at him in concern. They shouldn't worry. Lelouch didn't need help. He had killed someone already. Two people. There had been that scavenger in Area Eleven. That was another life on his conscience.

Roy was helping him forward, dragging him to sick call. Then the Drill Sergeant was beside him with startling clear blue eyes, so unlike that assassin. Vaguely, Lelouch could hear someone talking of a panic attack. But that was foolish. Why would he be panicking? He was fine. Perfectly fine. He had killed someone with his soft hands. Held a sword. Pointed a gun. Wielded them both with no mercy.

But he had done it for Nunally… For Suzaku… To save their lives. If he hadn’t… They would have died… yet, he had still taken another’s life… And he would do it again. A murderer. That was what he was. A monster.

Monsters didn’t deserve help. He was fine. Afterall, why would he be panicking? The deed was already done. He was fine.

The others weren’t though. They didn’t know the monster that lurked within him. Lelouch had to warn them. Tell them to leave before he became like the soldiers in Area Eleven. Monsters he had called them… But they weren’t so different in the end.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

"Hello I'm Rivalz Cardemonde. Is this the student council?"

Nunnally raised her head and pushed her homework to the side. He would be the new student that Milly had wanted to poach as their secretary. She held out her hand. "Yes. Milly mentioned something. I'm Nunnally, nice to meet you."

There was a brief moment of hesitation before his cold and clammy hands shook hers. "Nice to meet you. Lady Ashord said something about a supply list?"

"Yes. Milly was working on it. It should be on her desk." Nunnally pointed her finger at the corner of the room. It would have been helpful if Allie was there, but she had left to run her own errand.

He slowly walked to the corner and she heard him carefully nudge a few papers to the side. "Are you sure she'll be alright with me going through her things? Maybe it would be best if you found the paper?"

"I'm blind."

"Oh..." He paused. "Um, I'm so sorry. Was I being rude? I didn't mean to be rude."

Nunnally smiled slightly. His response had been far better than those of her many classmates. "Don't worry about it. Milly won't mind if you look through her papers."

The papers rustled as Rivalz returned to his search. "What do you think of Lady Ashford? She's rather... excitable. Wasn't expecting that. Figured someone of her station would be more concerned with propriety."

"Milly isn't like that," Nunnally said, although it was more of an assurance to herself. Recently, Milly had started sending less time with her and Allie. It was probably because she was busy planning for the party, but Nunnally couldn't help the small sliver of worry whenever she heard her laughing with older kids, including Sally. Perhaps Milly didn't need Nunnally anymore. Perhaps Milly wanted to spend time with kids her age. Perhaps Milly found Nunnally to be a burden. Useless. "Milly is very nice."

"Ah found it!" He fell silent and then let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of stuff. Can we even afford it?"

Nunnally pulled herself away from the worrying thoughts. "Lord Ashford gave us a generous budget, but I calculated everything through and set aside a little for emergencies."

"That's amazing Nunnally. I'm not bad at math, but that's a lot of work. Do you do it all in your head?" He briefly paused, "I'm being rude. That's a rude thing to ask, isn't it."

Laughing, Nunnally gestured to her homework. "I do quite a bit of it in my head, but I can use Nemeth braille to keep track of everything. It took a bit of time getting used to it. And you can relax. I'm blind, not a fragile little flower."

He chuckled nervously. "I guess I should get to this stuff. Don't know why I agreed to all of this. So much work... but it's better than the alternative I guess."

"What's worse?"

"Thinking. Stuff is kinda tense between my parents right now. My mother argued I should attend here, I'm glad. Gives me an excuse to be out of the house," said Rivalz and Nunnally could hear the sadness in his voice, before he abruptly became cheerful again. "And this is so much fun. Always been home schooled before. Think we can be friends?"

"Of course Rivalz. And I'm sorry about your parents... sometimes it's nice being away."

"Things not so easy with yours?"

Nunnally shook her head. "It's complicated. They're rather busy so my brother always watched over me. He's the best."

"I always wanted a sibling. We would have had so much fun together, but that never happened. So what does your brother do?"

"He enlisted, but he sends me a lot of letters." She pulled out his most recent letter and the small photo that he included and Allie had described to her in detail. "Here. There's a photo there too with his squadron. Lelouch is the second shortest."

The door slammed open and Milly flounced to Nunnally and ran her hands along Nunnally's side. "Hold still. The measurements aren't going to be accurate otherwise."

"Measurements?" Nunnally squeaked as the cold measuring tape wrapped around her legs. "Milly!"

Milly pulled back and a pencil scratched against paper. "Ooh secretary, you're finally here. No time to waste. The party is the day after tomorrow. Everything better be perfect by then. Come on. What are you waiting for! And Nunnally, if Sally comes by, please inform her that I'm so excited for what she's planning to wear."

The door slammed against the wall again and then creaked closed; Milly was gone like the maelstrom she was and she had swept Rivalz up with her. The door clicked open and lighter footsteps softly entered; the owner out of breath.

"I've been avoiding Milly for ages Nunnally! She's insane!" Allie wheezed between her breathes. "Sorry for taking so long, but had to make sure Milly wouldn't know about the black paint. Everything is ready for tomorrow."

It didn't matter that Milly was acting confusing or that their private sanctum had been invaded by a newcomer. Allie was there and Nunnally could always count on her best friend. Trying to express the depth of gratitude she felt with just her tone, Nunnally said, "Thank you Allie."

Scattering pages on the desk, Allie continued chuckled. "No problem Nunnally. Sally deserves it for stealing your homework. I'm so excited. Are you excited?"

"Of course Allie. It will be our first mission together... although it feels weird doing it without Lelouch. He was always the brains."

Pages continued to rustle and Allie's feet danced across the room as she opened various drawers. "Right. Still pulling my leg. Lelouch would never do something like that. He would be way too scared to. He's scared of my sister you know. Gwen isn't scary at all."

Nunnally rolled her eyes. Someday someone would believe her regarding Lelouch. It was just a matter of time. "Your sister scares me sometimes. She's always so direct."

"Hey I'm direct." Allie continued, quieter, "I'm not scary am I?"

"Not to me. But in a couple years, you'll be absolutely terrifying and people will hear you shout, and cower, before your mighty roar."

"Nunnally! Stop teasing me. And what's up with Milly anyway? She's been running around all week, barely taking any breaks. And she's being nice to Sally." So Nunnally hadn't been imagining it. Her heart sank as Allie continued, "I know she wants to have a super special end of the year celebration, but it's all a bit too much. She's ordering over a thousand balloons for some reason, has a cake that isn't even in the budget, so that's supposed to be an extra surprise, and keeps bothering me on what I think about so called different colors. They're the same color!"

Maybe if she put on a brave face, Milly wouldn't abandon them. If she was keeping secrets, it must be because she thought Nunnally couldn't handle them. She wasn't fragile. No matter what other people seemed to think. "Allie?"

"Yeah?"

Smoothing her face, Nunnally hid her worries. "It's nice outside. Let's play a game."

"Alright. All the paperwork is killing me anyway. Stupid nobles. Drowning everyone in paperwork," Allie grumbled and grabbed Nunnally's hand. "We can play out on the meadow. I've got the ball in the bag."

The sun was gentle on her skin and Nunnally twirled as the ocean breeze swooped in and playfully tugged on her skirt. It had to be beautiful outside like those wonderful summers in the Aries Villa that she could barely remember. They had been colorful and Lelouch would laugh excitedly. Sister Nelly would be there too with Euphie and sometimes sneak them small little treats. It would be nice to hear them again, but they were too busy.

Allie shouted and the ball sang as it flew through the air and Nunnally tilted her head to locate it. Stepping to the side, she heard it come closer. Approaching. Her hands moved upwards. And her fingers curled into the soft material. This was nice as well. Relaxing. Away from all troubles. If only Lelouch could be there with her. She missed him.

Nunnally heard Allie shout again and threw the ball towards her. Lelouch would have failed at this game. But he was getting stronger. So maybe the next time she saw him, they could play the game properly. He had promised to be there on her birthday. It was an impossible period of time. She couldn't wait. It was too long. But she would. Maybe....

The ball whistled through the air and Nunnally heard it further to her left, driven off course by the wind. Running over the soft grass, she tracked it and jumped. Her fingers skimmed past the ball and a soft thump landed on the ground behind her. She had missed. Searching the ground, Nunnally found it again and threw it to Allie.

Maybe she could ask her mother. Her mother's carvings had been beautiful, but birthdays were special. Lelouch would be upset... but if she asked to see her brother... If she asked for one favor, surely, her mother would accommodate her. She was an empress, and Nunnally might have been oblivious to what the meant, she knew now that her mother could get away with everything short of murdering family. And even then... she had her father's favor. Everyone knew that. The letter... had been proof. Surely, her parents wouldn't deny this wish of hers.

Nunnally's head jerked to the side as she heard the ball approach, too close, and right into the ball's trajectory. It bounced off of her head.

"Really," scoffed Sally, "I didn't think you could get any more pathetic blind girl. Maybe it'll be something heavier next time and then Milly won't have to waste time on you anymore."

Nunnally frowned. She had been too deep in her thoughts if Sally had managed to sneak up on her. Milly didn't waste her time on her, did she? Forcing a smile, she turned to the girl, "I think you should leave."

"Stop looking at me freak!"

Allie, ran over. "Don't talk to Nunnally like that!"

Sniffing, Sally said, "I'll talk however I please. Especially to filth like you. But not to worry. Milly has a surprise for the party. A big announcement." She laughed cruelly. "I bet she finally tired of the novelty of having a cripple and a little filthy peasant girl on the student council."

Tears formed in her eyes and Nunnally turned around, walking to Allie. Over her shoulder, she called out with a heavy heart, "Milly said she is excited to see what you'll be wearing."

Allie grabbed her arm. "I told you nobles are up to no good. We'll prank her next?"

No. Allie had to be wrong. Milly wouldn't do that. They had played together, made sculptures together, planned together. This was all a big misunderstanding. A lie that Sally was spreading to hurt them. Milly was just busy. After the party everything would go back to normal. Milly wouldn't betray Nunnally. Not for someone who was mean, annoying, socially acceptable, and... able to see. Would she?

"No," Nunnally whispered despondently. If Milly didn't want a little blind girl following her around anymore, it was her decision. Nunnally would just accept her fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
\- In episode 2, Lelouch calls himself Allen Spacer, the son of a Duke. Dukedoms are generally reserved for the royal family, so Lelouch basically claimed to be someone he is related to. The father would also be in line for succession potentially...  
\- The anime doesn't have rank insignias on the uniforms (or much of a uniform for high ranking characters), so I decided to put it on the collar where it might be overlooked.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Hope everyone had a great Christmas and Happy Holidays to those who don't celebrate.


	17. Tumultuous Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ All children and orphans of commoners were given the same rights. They were not allowed to enter any contract until the age of fourteen and the Empire required all children to be given free medical attention. Odysseus, the Minister of Welfare at the time, expanded legal and social protections. He established the Office of Social Services to stop incidents of abuse and insure that every child had a bed to sleep in and food. He also directed the office to crack down on the military for knowingly allowing underage children to enlist. In later years, he partnered with the Earl of Ashford to establish child care and primary school. _

_ —Social Classes in Britannia _

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Suzaku, ensnared in a white tassel, stared at him from on top a mountain of pink petals, pleading, with desperate green eyes. In front of the glowing cockpit of her knightmare, his mother stood expressionless with a sword in her hands. Lelouch stumbled forward, desperate to save his friend. Suzaku couldn’t die. He was Lelouch’s friend. And Lelouch’s mother was about to execute him; it was all Lelouch’s fault. The tip settled on Suzaku's neck. Suzaku shouted, but the wind swept the words away. 

The sword began to descend. 

"Suzaku!" Lelouch screamed and reached forward in a futile attempt to save his friend from fate. The ground surged beneath his feet and the heavy jewels of the crown bound him to the ground. "No! Not Suzaku, please."

Blood. Suzaku's dead eyes stared at him: accusing. Lelouch should have done more. And the blood continued to drip, turing the petals crimsons and Lelouch stared at his red sticky hands. It was all his fault. 

Drenched in red, Nunnally rose from the petals. “Why didn’t you save him brother?”

Lelouch's eyes snapped open and his heart hammered within his chest as he desperately tried to fill his lungs. A man in a white coat watched calmly from a chair by his side, talking soothingly and then offered him a warm cup of tea. Lelouch accepted it gratefully, relishing the warmth and the comfort of reality. At a neighboring bed, another patient groaned and the doctor stood up and fiddled with the IV. Suzaku hadn't died. He had to believe that. Suzaku was too strong and stubborn. He would have found a way.

Hot water splashed onto his trembling hands, he took a slow deliberate breath. The steam pressed against his face and the sweet sense of chamomile washed away the bitter phantom smell of blood. Nothing had happened. 

The doctor, hair greying despite his youth, reached down and pulled out a clipboard. "You didn't list PTSD as a medical issue."

"I don't have PTSD. I'm fine!" Lelouch snapped back. Weakness was forbidden. Nunnally's blindness already made her a target and if he wanted to protect her, he had to be even stronger.

The doctor’s droopy eyebags became more prounounced as he stared at Lelouch pointedly. "You had a panic attack and had to be escorted here. While we're not a hundred percent sure what triggered it, I'm going to guess it was the sword. Should I bring one in?"

Bile rose in Lelouch's throat at the thoughts of his dream and the sword swinging down. Glaring at the doctor, "No."

"You left important information out of your medical file private. You understand that isn't acceptable?"

"It never happened before... and it won't happen again." Lelouch bit his lip. A damning diagnosis on his medical file would cause problems. "I'll get over it. I just... need time."

"You are expected to learn the basics of the sword in case you become a knight. Passing the class is required if you want to be eligible to become a knightmare pilot."

No. Knightmare's only purpose was to spread destruction. They were self serving and useless at protecting anyone's life but the pilots. "I have no desire to pilot one so that will not be a problem sir."

Shaking his head, the doctor set aside the clipboard and quickly glanced at his watch, pursing his lips. "You cannot just skip a class. And aren't you being rather rash? Piloting a knightmare will grant you the greatest amount of prestige."

"I will do my job, but I have no intention of getting into an enormous metal monstrosity. Just please, don't put PTSD in my file. You won't see me again."

The doctor frowned. "Major Maxwell will not be pleased if you do not attend his lessons. There will be consequences. Not just punishments through training, but consequences for your career. He is a noble."

It would be deliberately breaking his promise to Nunnally. There was danger in defying a noble, especially doing it so flagrantly. But ensuring that his... condition never became publicly available information was necessary to keep his sister safe. Lelouch would just have to bear the possible consequences as a commoner would. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His older half-brother Schneizel would never put himself in such a position. Perhaps Lelouch would never defeat him at chess, but the Prime Minister would never allow something to be out of his control. That was the one thing constant in all their chess matches. A rigid control over every minute detail from perfectly centering the pieces within each tile to the pastries always arriving exactly twenty minutes into the match. 

Lelouch's heartbeat a little faster. He was going to relinquish even more control. It was terrifying... exhilarating. Potentially stupid and might end up getting him killed. But it was the only way forward that would allow Lelouch to maintain his position as his sister's protector. When the promised day came that the Emperor forced him to return to court and thrust him into the world of cutthroat politics, a public medical diagnosis would leave him powerless.

With a surprising amount of confidence, Lelouch said, "I will deal with the consequences as they arise. You will not see me again."

The doctor rubbed his forehead. "Very well. I will make an excuse, malnourished with stress or something. But if you suffer from another attack, it will go into your file, regardless of the paperwork. Do you understand?"

Lelouch nodded stiffly. "Perfectly. May I leave?"

"Get out of my sight." The doctor glared at him, obviously displeased.

Standing up, Lelouch bowed slightly to show his thanks and fled. He had an excuse to fabricate to his platoon mates and ample physical punishment to look forward to. Now, he had to determine a way to spin the situation so Nunnally wouldn't be worried. Life kept getting better.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally folded the paper firmly and ran her fingernail along the edge to crease it. Then she flipped it over to fold horizontally. Her nimble fingers worked rapidly as Allie grunted behind her and dragged boxes into the ballroom. The party was in the evening and Milly was working them to the bone in preparation. Milly had decided against hiring outside help for decorating to save money, resulting in student council members doing all the decorating by themselves. Nunnally set aside the folded crane in a growing pile.

Rivalz sighed loudly and shook the table as he slumped down beside her. "Do you know how terrifying ladders are? I swear I almost fell to my death five times. Never again."

Chuckling, Nunnally grabbed another paper with her sore fingers. "At least you're done now."

He moaned, “At least until Milly returns. My back is killing me.”

Nunnally winced in sympathy. “Can’t help you, I’m afraid. Have to finish this.”

"Right. You've been doing that for hours. It's amazing. Never seen anything quite like it." The table tilted as he stood up and peered over her shoulder.

Nunnally smiled softly as she pushed the sides inwards of the paper to make a small diamond. "Milly saw me doing it once, and apparently became quite entranced. It's called origami."

"Ori...gami. Where is it from?" He reached out and her pile of cranes rustled.

"Japan..." Nunnally whispered, her throat tight. Suzaku had taught her by guiding her hands and gently correcting her mistakes. 

"Oh. It’s pretty neat." Rivalz fell into an awkward silence and stad down besides her again. Hesitantly, he asked, "Can you... Can you show me?"

Nunnally nodded and pushed her finished crane into the pile. Grabbing two square pieces of paper, she set one in front of him. Folding her own paper, Nunnally began to instruct, "You need to align all the edges. First we'll fold it diagonally."

"Ah," Rivalz whispered in astonishment as Nunnally finished folding the head down. Nunnally smiled fondly. It was nice to share something that Suzaku had taught her. He would have done the same and it was a wonderful way to honor her old friend. 

The door opened and Nunnally could hear Sally and Milly's voice, too far out to hear what they were saying. Milly walked into the room. "Great job everyone! But we got to hand up those cranes. We need more. They're absolutely gorgeous."

Nunnally shook her head. "At this rate, we'll have a thousand."

Milly laughed. "A thousand sounds wonderful. And Rivalz, you need to hang up these lights I brought."

Besides her, the boy groaned. "Yes Lady Ashford."

"It's Milly!" the president whined. More seriously, she said, "Allie, I need you to help me with this banner. We still have some glitter right? You and Nunnally will be in charge of picking up the pudding this evening. It's going to be ready a little bit late, so I'm afraid you're going to have to leave the party a little bit early. But! You have to be back by ten. We can't miss desserts! Meet me in the student council room then. I'll need your help with a big surprise."

Rivalz grunted in the background and Nunnally could hear metal scratching along the floor. "Over here Madame President?"

"Ooh. I do like the sound of that. And no. A little bit to the right." The ladder screeched as Rivalz adjusted. "A little more... No! Too far. Back just a smidge. And Allie, it's slanted."

Nunnally turned back to the cranes. A thousand cranes... A thousand cranes to make a wish come true. She could wish to meet her brother... or for Milly not to tire of her. Or maybe she should cease being selfish. Everyone always helped her and if Milly wanted to be friends with Sally because of their similar social class, then it was none of Nunnally's business. Perhaps she should wish for her brother's safety. The military was dangerous. Nunnally frowned and set aside the crane. 

"I need a break Milly."

Allie chimed in, "I'll grab lunch with you Nunnally. Good luck everyone."

Milly sighed. "Oh fine. Flee the coop if you must. We're almost done anyway. But be back soon anyway. We can always make it better."

Allie grabbed Nunnally's arm and pulled. Nunnally stumbled to her feet and searched with her hand for her cane. Her fingers closed around it and together they fled from the tyrannical president. They stopped outside in the cool air, appreciating the breeze. Nunnally felt Allie's hand slipped away as she skipped a few steps forward.

"She's such a taskmaster. Thought I'd never escape." Her feet quieted. "I wonder what the cafeteria is serving today."

Nunnally let out an unladylike snort. "Don't expect too much and you won't be disappointed."

In comfortable silence they walked to the cafeteria and Allie served them both. Nunnally's nose twitched as she smelt the appetizing aroma of garlic and the putrid stench of soggy mushrooms. Guessing Allie's directions, she glared, before turning back the food and gingerly discovering the slippery monstrosities and pushing them aside with her fork.

"Mushrooms are delicious," Allie defended herself. "You just need to try. They're so good."

Nunnally pointedly took a bite of the crispy garlic bread. That was delicious. Not... mushrooms. Heels clacked against the floor and the small draft tickling Nunnally's neck ceased as the person stopped behind her. "So what do think of my hair? My father hired someone special to do it this morning... Oh. Right, you do your own hair all the time don't you."

Pushing down the urge to flick a mushroom at the brat, Nunnally forced a charming smile. "Oh. I didn't notice you there Sally. You just have no... presence."

Allie coughed beside her and gasped for air. "Sorry.  _ cough _ Water went  _ cough _ down  _ cough _ the wrong pipe."

Sally humphed. "Of course a country brat like you has no concept of manners." She quieted briefly. "And you, my dear apologies, of course you cannot appreciate my hair. I must pity you. Your world is utterly bleak and colorless. And who would ever want someone as useless as you? You'll always be a burden. Can't even do the finances for your husband... And nobody could ever love a worthless creature like you."

Blinding anger surged through Nunnally. She hadn't chosen to be blinded. Sally dared to mock her for the colors that Nunnally had lost and could no longer remember. The art that Nunnally once drew. The photos she could once enjoy. A family together before Nunnally's blindness had made her a liability. And then she insinuated... "Take that back. My brother loves me!"

Nunnally's fingernails dug into her skin as she clenched her fist. The pain was grounding. Her brother loved her.

"And where is he now? I'm sure he was relieved to no longer see your creepy eyes. It must be miserable, saddled with a sister like you."

Allie rested a hand on Nunnally's shoulder. "He serves in the army. For Nunnally. You aren't welcome here."

The noble girl laughed cruelly. "In the army. Risking death instead of being by his sister's side? There are rumors of another invasion soon... and, well, you heard about Area Two. There have been a bunch of attacks since then. They'll be calling in the army if it goes on much longer. So where will your brother be? At the mercy of savages or terrorists? He chose that over you."

Her brother would be fine. Their mother wouldn't allow him to be put in any real danger. And Lelouch was smart. Smart enough to think his way out of any problem. He would be fine. He had to be. "He joined the army so he could pay for us both."

"Really. Aren't you an optimistic little blind girl. Didn't know you could even look up. It's a beautiful lie for someone as simple minded as you. Even Lady Ashford, Milly, tires of you. I know what the big surprise is."

Nunnally didn't want to know. The confirmation of one of her greatest fears. But already, she was beginning to doubt herself. "What?"

Sally's hand settled on her head, stroking it mockingly. "She's going to make me the Vice President. Everything is planned for the big event. She even helped me pick out an absolutely gorgeous dress... I'll see you at the party."

Tears leaked out of her eyes and Nunnally turned around and threw herself at Allie, burying her head in her best friend's arms. The sobs started small, then growing larger. All the anguish yearning for release. Nunnally was losing. She only ever lost to Lelouch... now he wasn't there. Would he even care for such a weak sister? One that couldn't care for herself... and if, if he got hurt? Would Lelouch ever forgive her for putting him in such a position. Between her sobs, she choked out, "Lulu is, going, to be... fine. Right? She's just lying."

Allie pulled her into a tight hug. "Of course he'll be fine. He'll probably become a medic or so. He's always so calm and collected. Nobody hurts medics." Nunnally gasped for air. Her brother would be fine. "And of course she is lying. You're amazing... And super smart."

Nunnally shook her head. Her friend was just being polite. Everyone lied... even Lelouch. She wasn't smart. She was just a burden. Useless. Lelouch had to shield her. Big sister Nelly always knew what she wanted with her life: to be a knight. Odysseus always wanted to help people and begged to study medicine. Schneizel had been an academic genius and the youngest Prime Minister in the history of Britannia. Even Clovis knew he wanted to be an artist. Now, he was a master of his craft. And Nunnally... she had no idea. 

Time was running out. But there was nothing she was good at. And now, she would be losing her spot on the student council one thing Nunnally had some talent for. That was why Milly was requesting her to get the deserts. So there wouldn't be a scene with the big announcement. She was a fool. What could she do now?

"Hey. It's going to be alright," Allie said soothingly, "Remember. We're going to prank Sally's room and we can do that before fetching desert. Nobody will suspect a thing. And then she's going to be mad and the one crying."

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Like a broken record, Lelouch repeated, "I'm completely fine."

Henry looked up from his English homework with the most expression that Lelouch had ever seen: curious. "You collapsed. Is your life in danger?"

Massaging his nose, Lelouch observed his assembled squad mates. Roy was staring at him with obvious annoyance, but hadn't said anything despite sighing loudly. Alex, hanging from the bunk bed, stared at him with narrowed eyes and his eyes scanned Lelouch's body, looking for a hint. He had been there when Lelouch had collapsed and naturally was suspicious. He was frighteningly observant, but fortunately didn't have Roy's knowledge to draw from. Otherwise, Lelouch was sure he would have discovered his secret. 

Lelouch settled on, "My life isn't in danger. It was just an... imbalance of nutrition. I apparently need to eat more and build up some muscle mass."

Poking Lelouch in the shoulder, Edgar said, "Well you are skinny. But that wasn't very strenuous. Do you have an underlying medical condition? You can trust us you know. We will help you."

"Not to my knowledge."

"I'll be monitoring your health then. No need for you to collapse," Edgar ordered, leaving no room for discussion.

Picking up on the thread, Lelouch desperately changed the subject, "Do you want to be a medic?"

"When I treated Victor... I barely knew what to do, but it felt good. Nobody is going to die on my watch and I have a feeling you're the one to take unnecessary risks." Edgar peered into Lelouch's face, their noses almost touching and sternly warned, "You're not risking your health. If you start skimping on meals, I'll have Frederick hold you still and spoon feed you."

Lelouch nodded quickly and backpedaled. There would be absolutely no need for that. He would not collapse again. "Understood sir."

Edgar beamed. "Now, ready to go. It's going to be difficult for you to catch up. Major Maxwell demands a lot."

...Damn it. Lelouch thought he had more time. But luck wasn't on his side. Within the next five minutes, Lelouch needed a way to recuse himself from the class. Skipping would be too audacious and then his entire squad would obviously worry. He needed a plan. Lelouch's eyes settled on the Drill Sergeant in the corner of the room, working with a clipboard. He needed to attract the man's attention. Getting in trouble directly with Major Maxwell was too much like playing with fire. Fire? No. That would cause too much collateral not to mention he lacked a lighter. A fist fight? That would be... incredibly out of character. There had to be something. Lelouch couldn't go back and hold the sword. He wasn't ready. 

Alex swung on the bed and Lelouch took a step to the side, out of the hazard zone. Perhaps he could buy time with an urgent bathroom break. He just returned from sick call. It was believable. But that plan relied on running into another Drill Sergeant on the return trip. It was risky. It would be a last resort. Inventory. Bed sheets? He could fashion a rope, streak, throw it at the Drill Sergeant. 

Lelouch groaned and Roy's eyes narrowed. All of his plan sucked. 

The bed came crashing down, missing Lelouch by a hair. Alex laughed and shrugged guiltily as the entire platoon stared at him. "Oops?"

The Drill Sergeant threw the clipboard to the side. "What in the name of the Emperor was that Private Doe? Do you think this is funny?" The tsunami of rage crashed into the squad as the demon turned his attention to the rest of the squad. "And why did none of you idiots stop him? Huh? Nothing to say for yourselves? Congratulations. You just volunteered for bathroom duty... with a toothbrush.  _ After _ , you fix this mess of a room... Well? What are you waiting for? Scram! And that bathroom better glisten like the Emperor's crown by the time I get back."

The Emperor's crown did not glisten. It mostly gathered dust and his mother had once joked it was simply too heavy for anyone's head. Lelouch stifled his cry of relief and shouted, "Yes Drill Sergeant!"

"Good grief," muttered the Drill Sergeant as he turned around and shook his head. 

Alex brushed by his side. "Now it's a fair trade."

The rest of the squad glared at Alex and trudged to the supply closet to gather their toothbrushes and soap. Lelouch nodded to Alex and passed him a toothbrush in silent thanks. The tiles ground against his knees and his back ached, but it was a good pain. Another lesson missed. A little more time to control his irrational fear. No weakness could be shown. 

Henry dutifully continued to work, but slowly drifted over to Lelouch's side. "You are pleased with this?"

"Of course not."

Henry nodded to himself. "You aren't a very good soldier."

Laying the toothbrush down, Lelouch rolled his shoulder and cracked his back. "I'm fourteen. I doubt children can be effective soldiers."

The other youth blinked and tilted his head sideways. "Children can be taught to follow instructions. It's adults who disobey orders. They become misguided. Are you misguided as well? But then, you do make a good leader. And good leaders don't make good soldiers."

Lelouch blinked. That had to be the most Henry had ever said in Lelouch's presence. "Do you have a point?"

"No." He shrugged and the foreign curiosity bled away and the polite, but blank mask returned. "That isn't my job."

Filing the strange behavior away for later reference, Lelouch picked up the toothbrush and returned to work. Three hours later, utterly exhausted and sore to their bones, the teenagers stood up and staggered out of the room. Finally they were done. Lelouch leaned against the wall as he gently massaged his joints.

Roy stopped besides him. "You already know how to use a sword, don't you?"

"Not really."

The silence stretched.

"The last time I used a sword, I was nine. There isn't much you can teach a child."

"You can teach us in the yard. We should be able to find a stick and practice the basics."

A stick. Lelouch could do that. It wasn't a sword. It didn't have a tassel. Small steps. He could do this and conquer his weakness "Alright."

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally slowly scrubbed under her fingernails. They had ended up picking up dessert first with Milly personally seeing them off. The prank had gone off without a hitch and Nunnally hoped they had avoided the security cameras successfully. But what did it matter. Nunnally wasn't of use to anyone. She could just as well hide out in the palace and let herself be forgotten. She was worthless... But Lelouch would be so disappointed in her. 

Resting her forehead against the cool bathroom wall, Nunnally tried to draw the energy to form a happy, cheery smile. She had to smile. For Lelouch. And for Allie washing her own hands in the sink next to hers. They had put their faith in Nunnally's worth... at least she could grant them happiness by making their lives as easy as possible. 

"You okay Nunnally?" Allie asked, a hand settling on her shoulder. "Not too tired? We still need to meet up with Milly. I know you're not looking forward to it."

Nunnally pulled back and sought for every happy memory to bring a smile to her face. She would only show happiness. Holding up her hands, she asked, "Are my fingers clean?"

"Missed a speck of paint there," Allie said as she grabbed Nunnally's hands and brought them under the running water. "Here. Let me help you with that."

They finished quickly in the bathroom and Nunnally grabbed a box and smelled the sweet scent of pudding. Enticing, but nauseating. It was a distraction so Milly didn't have to deal with her. Still, she would deal with it like Lelouch would. With a proud, straight back, and the audacity to call out the Emperor on his manipulations. She would look strong even if her heart threatened to chatter into a million pieces. Stopping in the hallway, right before where Nunnally knew the student council room was, she took a deep breath. She could do this.

Allie brushed against her side and set the boxes down on the ground with a gentle plop. The door opened before Allie could approach. 

"Ah! Nunnally, you're here. And you've got the pudding!" Milly shouted and rushed forward, snagging a box from the pile in her arms. "Now come in here. Don't dawdle. And Allie. You can help too."

A foreign gait greeted Nunally's ears and she frowned. "Milly, who is that?"

"Oh?" Milly laughed and pushed Nunnally into a chair. "Of course. That's my maid, Matylda. She's absolutely amazing. And Allie. Sit down too. I want you to look your absolute best."

Confused, Nunnally winced as the maid began to run a brush through her hair. "Milly?"

"Oh, just hold still. Just wait and see. I've been dying to tell someone... but nope. Had to keep quiet. Well... except grandfather. But then he told me..." Milly let our an ear splitting squeal. "I can't tell. It's so unfair. I've been dying to let someone know."

Allie, sounding annoyed, suggested, "You could give us a hint?"

"A hint?" Milly jumped and clapped her hands. "Yes. Grandfather said something about that. But you know we have break next week?"

Nunnally shrugged and the maid yanked her hair a little too harshly. It wasn't like Lelouch could come. He was still busy with training.

"Ugh. I want to tell. Both things..." Milly paused and her voice became calmer as she spoke to the maid. "Is she ready then? And you have the dress?"

"Dress?" Nunnally asked.

Milly yanked her out of the chair and tugged on her shirt. "Come on. Yes. Why do you think I need your measurements." Her voice became sharper. "Allie. Sit down. Let Matylda do her job. No fidgeting. And Nunnally, out of those clothes... No need to be shy."

A blush rising on her cheeks, Nunnally turned around. Why did Milly have to sound so suggestive when she said that. It was... weird. Wiggling out of her modest linen dress, Nunnally tried to understand Milly's intentions. Was she lying? Or had there been a big misunderstanding? But what were all those comments about Sally for then?

Milly seized her wrists and guided the dress over her head. It snagged on her nose and Nunnally tried to endure it with dignity as Milly helped dress her, worse than any servant had ever done. Nunnally was capable of dressing herself, but it seemed nobody in nobility thought she could. It was... aggravating. She tried to console herself with the fact that Milly didn't think she was an invalid, but just a helpless noble... or it was because Milly had no patience. If there was a big secret surprise, it was mind boggling that Milly hadn't spilled the beans yet.

Milly smoothed out the soft fabric and stepped back. "Give it a twirl."

"You look stunning!" Allie whispered in astonishment.

"Don't close your eyes Nunnally. Everyone needs to see your stunning purple eyes. And Matylda. The hairpiece please."

Nunnally shook her head slightly, feeling the braids dangling against her head. The fabric felt felt breezy... and expensive, but she had no idea how it looked. If Milly was abandoning her, surely she wouldn't go through all this trouble. The maid's nimble fingers moved through her hair and something heavy settled on her brow. The maid stepped back.

Feeling self conscious, Nunnally did a small twirl. "How do I look?"

"Like a goddess," Allie professed, while Milly bragged, "You look absolutely gorgeous as befitting of someone on the student council." 

"Really?" Nunnally asked and her hands reached upwards to the strange thing resting on her brow.

"Don't touch that," snapped Milly. "And come on. It's time to go. Allie's got her hair and make up done. You're in an absolutely stunning dress that'll steal the spotlight the moment you enter the ballroom and we can make the announcement."

Announcement? Then Sally hadn't been lying. Nunnally closed her eyes and pasted a bright smile on her face. Her nervousness and fear were tucked into a box and she brought the happy memories close to the surface. Milly didn't have to go through all this trouble. Perhaps it was to humiliate her, but that didn't seem like Milly's style. Whatever the announcement was, Nunnally would smile serenely in thanks for the effort that Milly put in.

The large ball room doors opened with a small grunt, but otherwise, no sound. A trumpet played briefly and as she stepped passed the player, he whispered, "Good luck Nunnally." It was Rivalz.

Milly guided Nunnally to the banister and Nunnally could hear various students murmuring below as they rustled and quieted. Milly cleared her throat and her voice echoed through the speakers. "Welcome everyone to the first ball of Ashford Academy!"

Polite applause followed and Allie inched closer to Nunnally to grab her hand.

"I hope everyone has been enjoying the food and drinks. In just a few minutes, there will be pudding for dessert. But first, let us thank the members of the wonderful student council for making this ball possible!" Loud applause followed. "It's been a wonderful time at Ashford Academy and in the last half year, the school has grown rapidly. Which means more teachers. More classes. And more organization. Which brings me to the first big announcement of tonight. "There will now be two groups of students: The middle school group at the mid campus for those fourteen and below, while at the high campus, there will be the high school group. For select students, they may advance a year depending on their course credit. Your instructors will explain this more in detail."

A small smattering of applause followed along with hushed, but thunderous whispering.

"Which brings me to more exciting news. After the break, we will begin hosting clubs. You'll find a forms by the door. Just fill one out with an idea and the student council will review it and assign you a budget. We've already got an Equestrian Club, a gardening club for our wonderful new greenhouse, and a Knightmare Club set to begin after the break. But we need more, so if you want to make a Fantasy Game Club, Alternate History Club, or Fall-Down-Seven-Times Club, fill out those applications!"

The room was deafening and Nunnally could hear students chatter excitedly while others calling out potential club ideas. It was pandemonium, but Milly's clear voice cut through and easily silenced the crowd. "And now to my favorite news! Because of the increased workload and having two school groups, we'll be having two student councils! Please everyone, welcome Nunnally Lamperouge, your new Junior Student Council President!"

Nunnally felt the heat of the spotlight and heard Sally scream indecipherably as Allie clung to her hand like a lifeline. This hadn't been what she expected... nothing like this. Why would... Why would Milly trust a blind useless girl with such an important task? How could Milly think that Nunnally was up to the task? Regardless of her confusion and misgivings, Nunnally smiled and waved with her free left hand. Afterwards, she would tell Milly that she was expecting too much of Nunnally. 

Heels struck the grand stairs until they abruptly came to a stop before Milly and a heavy object fell to the ground. "You made a fool of me!" Sally sucked in air through her nose. "What was all that? Those little hints you were dropping? Do you think this is funny?"

"Yes. It was hilarious." Milly replied, her voice sickly sweet. Allie's hand tightened around Nunnally's, almost cutting off the blood flow. "Nunnally is my friend... and you insulted her. You should know I protect my own, and really? What could you possibly offer me? Your personality is horrendous, your grades are only passing because the instructor is lenient, your family has no prestige, and unlike Allie and Nunnally here, you have no class."

"No class!" Sally shrieked. "I bought this dress new because of you. That handbag. These shoes. I told my parents! And instead, you publicly humiliate me with some cretin!"

Milly took a step towards Sally. "I would watch how you speak regarding my friend. And aren't you projecting quite a bit. Worthless. Useless. A burden. That's what you are. You have nothing to your own name. Just your father's money. Nunnally, Allie, and Rivalz helped organize the festivities you so graciously partook in. But yet, the only person who you thanked was me. You seem to think the others are beneath your notice... and for that, you have proven yourself grossly unqualified for the student council."

"But their commoners!"

"Technically," Rivalz interrupted, "I'm a noble, a minor one, but then so are you. You just assumed."

Milly continued on, "Because you're shallow."

"This isn't fair! Nobles don't hang out with commoner trash. Their stupid and backstabbers! You were supposed to be my friend."

Laughing, Milly asked, "Do you truly think the world is fair? That only nobles backstab? Have you ever opened a history textbook? Court will eat you alive if you think like that. And why should I trust you? You have everything to gain by being friends with me, but you offer nothing of value to me. And nothing prevents, you, from stabbing me in the back when a better opportunity arises. Nunnally and Allie, on the other hand, have barely anything to gain and I trust their intentions."

"You're lying! I guess you're a filthy dirty number lover like your grandfather. The apple didn't fall far from the tree. Are you without honor too?"

Milly took a deep breath and gently hooked Nunnally's arm. "If you can't handle some simple truths, then perhaps you should find a different institution. And do remember that the filthy dirty number lover without honor has the ear of the viceroy... Let's go. I tire of this conversation and want pudding."

"Thank you Milly." Nunnally said as she let Milly lead her and Allie continued to hold her hand.

Allie hissed, "Don't you dare to ever do that to Nunnally again. She was worried sick because of your lies."

"I'm sorry Nunnally. I should have been more thoughtful, but next time, please include me when planning your own revenge. What you did to her room was amazing. I almost feel sorry."

"What!" Allie hissed. "How did you know that?" 

Milly laughed. "Don't worry. I erased the footage for you, but those buckets of paint sure looked fun." Gently guiding Nunnally through the crowd of congratulations and gossipers, Milly continued, "But I promise you're going to love this. Just wait a moment... and... just a little bit further."

Nunnaly, keeping track of their path, frowned. They had passed the desert table and were rapidly approaching the entrance. "Milly?"

"Oh, hush. Just have a little patience." Milly pushed her forward and Allie's hand slipped away. "Congratulations!"

Nunnally tilted her head in confusion, wondering if there would be an auditory cue, when a painfully familiar voice said, "Oh Nunnally dear. You look absolutely amazing."

"Mother?" Nunnally choked out. Her mother was there; she couldn't be. But that was her voice and wheels rolled across the ground. It was her. Nunnally took a step forward, and then ran forward, wrapping her arms around her mother's familiar form. The familiar scent of grease and machinery greeted her, comforting. "Mother!"

"Nunnally, I've missed you. And you've grown so much."

There was something strange in the smell. Bleach? Nunnally reached out and let her mother's hair pool in her hands. It was bleach, which explained why no one was freaking out about an Empress being there. The relief and happiness faded, and Nunnally stepped back. Much more composed, she asked, "Why are you here?"

Sounding annoyed, "Do I need a reason to see my daughter?"

"Yes." When Nunnally and Lelouch had been in Japan, they had never called. And then her mother had been there only for a brief moment to collect them, before vanishing to fight in the war. Why was now any different?

The warm hand reached out and stroked her cheek. "I missed you. You and Lelouch, but things were so busy. I'm sorry. But I read your letter and your wish to see your brother. Let me make it up to you? You have a break from school and Lelouch has leave the week after next. We can spend some quality time together like a family... like we used to."

Nunnally's mouth dried as various emotions coursed through her. She could see Lelouch again! And her mother was apologetic, wanted to improve. It was a chance... but family time had never been a real thing. It had always been Nunnally and Lelouch. When she fell and scraped her knee, it had been her brother who tended to her. When Nunnally climbed a tree and was too scared to come down her brother had fetched Cornelia. It was never her mother: too busy to have time for them. But there was a chance... and it hurt.

Allowing herself to be pulled into another again, Nunnally smiled painfully, "I would love to."

"That is wonderful. Who was that girl that confronted you and Milly on the banister?"

"Sally, she was," Nunnally trailed off. Her mother could be displeased with the girl's actions... and had the ability to retaliate more effectively than Nunnally or even Milly could. She had been willing to condemn Suzaku for being their friend... "Just jealous of Milly."

"Oh. Do you want to introduce me to your friends? I already know Milly but I don't think I've met the young gentleman and lady yet."

This... This was what mothers were supposed to do. Right?

Rivalz, sounding incredibly nervous, stumbled a step forward. "Nice to meet you ma'am. I'm Rivalz... Cardemonde. Nunnally is quite incredible."

"Allie Morgan, miss... I mean, ma'am. It's wonderful, to, meet you!"

Her mother hummed noncommittally and grabbed Nunnally's hand. "Is there anything you need to pick up from your dorm?"

It seemed her mother was eager to leave and Nunnally bowed her head. "Mother? I would like to stay until the end of the party? Please?"

Her mother sighed. "Oh, very well. Milly, you will escort my daughter at the end?"

Milly squeaked. "Of course, yo—ma'am."

"Have fun Nunnally. I'll see you in a couple of hours." Her mother patted her hand and Nunnally could hear the wheels rolling over the tiles.

The din of the festivities washed over them and Nunnally walked back to her friends, smiling, but her heart pounding within her chest. Gratefully, Allie's hand slipped within hers. Allie breathed, "Your mother is absolutely terrifying."

"I think I died," added Rivalz.

Milly chuckled nervously and softly, almost too quiet to hear, said, "good."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
\- Curiously, I can't find any images of Charles wearing a crown. Just his ridiculous wig. And then Lelouch wears a hat? Perhaps the Crown Jewels were lost when Napoleon invaded, but nothing prevents the Empress/Emperor from fashioning a new one. Considering the amount of gold found in California and the various other gem stones available to mine within North and South America, there is no reason not to make one. And then Lelouch has huge precious stones in his costume? The more I think about this, the stranger it becomes.  
\- Sometimes, have references to little gems in the wiki. Another club listed for Ashford: Landmine Club (disbanded)... I wonder why? /s  
\- Gino Weinberg is a tad strange math wise. Apparently he joined the military at 16, then less than a year later, he becomes a Knight of the Round. Doing a bit of math since he's knighted 5 months before Suzaku, that would mean Aprilish of 2017. He turned 16 in November, so he was in the army for five/six months? I find this very dubious.
> 
> Author's Note:  
A Happy New Year and welcome to the next decade. It's the 20s now. :p
> 
> Someone commented that the pacing is too slow (thoughts?) and they feel like I will abandon it. Rest assured, that won't happen, and I still am working on my other works although they require some revisions because my writing style has heavily evolved since I started them as a freshman in high school. This story has an end planned even if I'm sort of smushing three books into one. Oops. Based on my current pacing and update schedule, I'll probably be finished sometime late 2021 or early 2022. This includes breaks.
> 
> Apologies for missing the update last week. Finals + Holidays meant I ran through my entire buffer and couldn't find enough time to refill it. The fortunate news is that the next chapter is ready, but it will be posted next Wednesday so my beta has a chance to look it over. I will be doing a makeup chapter soon, and on FFN we're 3 favorites short of 100. So do you guys want an extra update or a one-shot or something else?
> 
> Who is everyone's favorite and least favorite character so far? 
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)


	18. What's Beneath a Mask?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary:  
The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ ...Sakuradite was my teen love project. I studied every aspect of it, until I wrote a glorious paper on the connection between the physical properties of sakuradite and kinetic energy. My boyhood fancy of robots compelled me to postulate its use in robotics in the afterword. A tiny note that changed the world. I'll attach a copy of the paper for your leisure. _

_ Nunnally Burn read my article. She was a couple years ahead of me and working with silicon. Unfortunately, unlike me, she was not the heir of a prestigious noble family who funded their son's eccentric projects. She was a self-taught commoner, yet understood my work. I never realized the untapped market of intelligence until she sent me a letter. She had read my paper, my afterword, and then postulated the incorporation of silicon, which she believed would be unaffected by an energy grid powered by sakuradite. It was ambitious and I asked to meet her. _

_ She included a rough outline of how a sakuradite robot could work as an afterthought. She just wanted to visualize what I postulated. It wasn't anything serious although I wrote down improvements regardless. The greatest piece of technology that would ever be made, and it was an afterthought in a conversation between strangers. _

_ —Excerpt from a letter from Reuben Ashford _

* * *

**JLF Base, Narita Mountains, Area 11**

Tohdoh, carrying a bulging folder of paperwork, entered his office: a glorious hole in the ground. A wire from outside the room, stretched along the ceiling to a lone light swung lazily in the middle. His heart jumped and the folder nearly slipped out of his hands, as Sayoko stepped out of the corner, bowing. She waited for him patiently as he set down the folder on the fine desk that some poor recruit had to have dragged from the former Japanese military base. Sitting on the crate that had been repurposed as a chair, Tohdoh finally turned to Sayoko. "What do you have for me?"

She pulled out a much smaller folder and set it down on his desk, then stood rigidly, awaiting new orders.

Tohdoh slid the folder open and flipped it open and stared at the various surveillance photos, some of prolific men. "Anyone of particular interest here?"

Dutifully, she recalled, "I finally found some dirt on Lord Ashford who has illegally acquired art pieces, but considering the viceroy's passion for art, it would mildly inconvenience him at best."

"Something to be tabled until Prince Clovis is no longer the viceroy. Perhaps more, illegal activities?"

She nodded. "Of course. There are rumors of a new drug... to make Numbers more compliant. I believe Earl Seymour is purchasing it in bulk and have discovered evidence," she reached out to to turn over one of the papers and revealed nauseating surveillance pictures, "that he is kidnapping Numbers and claiming them as subordinates. When they try to escape, he claims they betrayed him and cut out their tongues."

Something felt vaguely familiar regarding the punishment. "And what would Britannia's response be?"

"The Shinozaki clan has documents describing certain Britannian practices. There is a legal precedent for creating so called Unspeakables, although, if the earl is abiding by the process, he would need another accomplice. It was incredibly popular before the Emblem of Blood."

Tohdoh's stomach churned. To do such an act required something more than a typical monster. The legality of the practice did not matter; the JLF were already engaging in technically illegal activities anyway. "If we reveal this to the average Britannian citizen, there should be enough outrage, regardless of legality... There are children in these pictures. How can Britannia condone something like this?"

The assassin shrugged. "I was trained as a Shinozaki since a young age. The principle is the same."

Those were moral quandaries that Tohdoh would have to consider at another time. Children weren't supposed to be involved in war... or any other despicable business. Massaging his temples, Tohdoh could hear the dirt crunching as other soldiers approached. Looking at Sayoko, he suggested, "Thank you. Track down the supplier and the other noble. You should go."

Looking down, he tucked the pictures out of sight. He could barely stand them and wouldn't show them to anyone else, unless necessary. There were certain things his men were better off not knowing.

* * *

**Fort necessity, Pennsylvania**

The wooden stick dropped from Lelouch's hand and he took a great step back. Roy lowered his own wooden stick as Frederick and Edgar ceased their sparring. Turning around, Lelocuh spotted Alex tumbling in the dirt as he tackled Henry to the ground. It didn't matter how often Lelouch went over the stances; Alex would always resort to a brawl style. And Henry... once pushed over the edge by Alex's refusal to fight properly, would retaliate with every dirty trick in the book.

"Think we should break them up?" Roy asked.

Lelouch rolled his eyes. "You're welcome to try, if you want a fist in your face."

"We're rather lucky," Roy observed, "with you and Alex making every excuse under the sun to avoid sword fighting lessons. I'm sure Major Maxwell would have an aneurysm is he saw Alex fight... But we do have a class to get to, and while it's been fun cleaning every inch of the base, let's avoid any unnecessary punishments?" Walking forward, he hollered, "Break it up you two!"

Lelouch winced in sympathy as Roy stumbled backwards, nursing his jaw. Alex rubbed his head sheepishly while Henry simply dusted himself off and began to head inside. Joined by their other two squad mates, they jogged to their next class, managing to sit down moments before their history instructor, Sergeant Malfoire, walked in.

Walking up to the table in the front, the instructor dropped a stack of papers with a resounding thud. "We'll be doing a special unit today on codes. You'll be expected to memorize standard military codes and understand the fundamentals of code breaking. Most of you," he glanced at the room and his gaze settled on Zit, sneering, "will be choosing your specializations soon. And I'm sure, you all are very much awaiting the opportunity to sign up for the knightmare corps then and practice within a simulator. Let me be crystal clear, this unit is essential. You cannot become a knight without passing. Understood?"

"Yes Sergeant!" the students chorused.

"But for those who fail the simulators," he began as he walked between the desks and passed out packets of papers, "you may apply to a different specialization. Medics. Infantry. Engineering. Logistics. Or... Communications. That is my specialty, which I will return to when your instruction is complete. Proficiency in history, a foreign language, and codes are required." 

Sergeant Malfoire paused and then drawled, "At the moment, there are only four of you with a decent chance. At the end of this test, I expect that number to drop to zero. You may begin."

Lelouch flipped through the papers and stared at the numerous scribbles, numbers, and gibberish words. Skipping to the end, he let out a sigh of relief. It was French. Backwards. And undoubtedly unfair to whoever was failing their foreign language class. A calm settled over his mind as the easy problem soothed his trepidation. He could pass the test. Moving back to the first page, Lelouch tapped his pencil against his chin. It looked vaguely familiar. 

Smiling, he ticked the repeating letters... The instructor paced the length of the classroom and Lelouch moved down the page, marking the frequency and penciling in, educated guesses. It was a simple shift cipher. He should have caught it earlier, but Lelouch hadn't broken a code in years. He was... rusty. Shaking his head, Lelouch flipped to the next page and began transcribing. The next problem was infuriatingly easy, it was the message simply mirrored. Moving through, Lelouch worked swiftly, well aware of the time ticking by as the instructor patrolled the classroom. Other students groaned, but Lelouch's pencil continued to scratch as he worked on solving the codes.

Finally, he stopped at the second to last problem. A simple letter of gibberish and lacking any substance. But the tail end of the "e" was curled inwards. Lelouch paused. It wasn't an easy code, not one that could be simply brute forced. But if Lelouch sold himself as an avid fan of encryption, he could potentially join communications which would keep him out of the line of fire. Being behind any potential battle lines would be safe, while still allowing him to serve meaningfully. And unlike a medic, he would still have the opportunity for promotion. Lelouch began rapidly decoding the letter.

Setting his pencil down, Lelouch straightened in his seat and observed the room. Various other privates rubbed their heads and tapped their pencils. Besides him, Roy chewed on the eraser with a frustrated glare. 

The instructor finished his circuit of the room. "Five minutes remaining!"

Papers rustled and someone swore softly. Up front, Alex set aside his paper and rested his head on the table, rolling the pencil up and down the table. Lelouch scanned his decryption and nodded to himself as he let the papers lie neatly on the desk. This was his chance and while his history grades weren't the best, Lelouch was great in foreign languages, already knowing French, Mandarin, and Japanese, although the latter would probably not be considered of much use. 

"And time," the instructor hollered, and Lelouch jerked in surprise, "pass your papers up front."

The class watched warily as the instructor skimmed their tests while standing up in front of the class. Occasionally, he would frown and purse his lips. He slammed the papers down on the desk abruptly and the class jumped. The instructor narrowed his eyes, "The lot of you are absolutely hopeless. You all fail... except," he looked down at the papers again, "Private Doe and Private Lamperouge. Get up here."

"Yes Sergeant," the duo shouted as they raced upfront. Lelouch, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation, stood rigidly at attention. Alex waited beside him with a dazed look of disbelief. 

Sergeant Malfoire passed Alex a book and a note. "Give that to your Drill Sergeant, Private. You have shown the bare minimum of aptitude, unlike the rest of your classmates. Whether you will grasp this opportunity under my tutelage, will be seen. Your abysmal grades will not be tolerated. Class dismissed. Private Lamperouge stay."

The platoon picked up their bags in silence and scampered. The door shut behind the last person, Henry, with a resounding thud. Lelouch stood still as the instructor laid down his test on the table and began to tidy up. The wait was agonizing, but Lelouch knew these games by now. The wait, purposefully drawn out, so he would shift, or talk, and be punished. Something niggled at Lelouch's mind regarding the instructor's job and the deliberate... vagueness.

Sergeant Malfoire pulled out a chair and gestured at it. "Sit Private Lamperouge. Or may I call you Lelouch?"

Lelouch smiled glibly and took a seat graciously. His heart hammered within his chest and he could hear blood gushing to his ears as alarm bells went off. At times like these, Lelouch appreciated the lessons of his family, despite their origin. Remaining perfectly poised, Lelouch said, "If you so wish Sergeant Malfoire."

The man smiled genially and Lelouch felt sweat trickle down his spine as he desperately wished one of his squad mates was there. "Tell me about yourself Lelouch."

"What do you wish to know?" Lelouche asked as he tried to buy time. What was the man's angle? Did he somehow know who Lelouch was? Was he an assassin, a foreign agent, or one of his mother's enemies?

"Well I already know about your classes. You saved another private from frostbite, didn't you? Quite commendable. Although... I must express my worry about your continuous absences from Major Maxwell's class. And within my own class, well, you have some strange ideas regarding our country's wonderful history. But why don't you tell me about your family?"

Lelouch lay his hands in his lap to hide the tremors. "There isn't much to say. I don't get along with my parents and I have a younger sister attending Ashford Academy."

"Nunnally, right?"

The uncertainties washed away and Lelouch forced his face remained impassive. The man was a threat and there was an implicit threat in him knowing his sister's name. It was in his file... but why would Sergeant Malfoire specifically memorized Lelouch's information? "Yes."

Something akin to disappointment flashed across his face, but he changed the subject. "Did you have an interest in cryptography as a child?"

Adorning the mask of a bashful student, Lelouch ducked his head, "I found it fascinating when I was younger. I drove my mother insane by encoding everything."

Green eyes bored into him. "Past tense?"

Lelouch bit on his lip and kept his eyes lowered. Codes had fallen to the wayside with foreign languages, but they had truly died with Suzaku. Their codes had been the last Lelouch had made. "Interests change Sergeant Malfoire. I found other subjects calling to me more."

"Which ones?" Something rustled, but Lelouch kept his eyes firmly down. Too many questions were dangerous and he had to appear harmless.

"Math, physics, literature... and cooking." His cheeks grew warm at the last admission as a blush slipped through the mask.

Sergeant Malfoire's voice suddenly grew colder. "Quite interesting hobbies you have Lamperouge. Put your hands where I can see them." 

Conditioned by months of training, Lelouch automatically raised his hands, realizing his mistake immediately as the man's hands grabbed his wrist and cold metal pressed against his skin. Settling on a confused look, Lelouch tried to emulate Nunnally's innocence as he looked up and asked, "Sir?"

Yanking on Lelouch's cuffed hands, Sergeant Malfoire leaned across the table and his warm, sticky breath blasted Lelouch's face. The man's face eerily blank except for the small upturned corners of his mouth. "Let us both drop the masks Lamperouge. They get so... tiring after a while. Don't they?"

Lelouch took a deep steadying breath as he willed his heart rate to slow down. "I do not understand, Sergeant Malfoire. Have I done something wrong?"

The edges of Sergeant Malfoire’s mouth ticked upwards and a small rumble ran through his shoulders. "I must applaud you, Lamperouge. It is one of the best masks I have seen." He grabbed one of Lelouch's fingers and began twisting it backwards. "But I do tire of masks so. In my line of work, I very much appreciate honesty. Otherwise, I get cranky."

Lelouch watched in horror as the man continued to bend the finger against it natural orientation: slowly and methodically. With his hands shackled, he was completely powerless and Lelouch felt his gut clench. Reflexively, he tried to pull his hands backwards, only for the metal to cut into his skin. The pressure on his finger increased even more. He blinked and pushed down the rising bile in his throat.

Fighting through the cloud of panic, Lelouch seized his only possible escape: his friends. Eventually, one of his friends had to realize something was wrong. Until then, Lelouch had to buy for time and find Sergeant Malfoire's weak spot. Stabbing in the dark, he asked, "Your name isn't actually Sergeant Malfoire."

The pressure ceased. "You do have quite an intelligent mind. But then it is such a tacky name. But Lelouch Lamperouge... that is truly tacky."

Lelouch frowned. His sister had picked the name. There was absolutely nothing wrong with it. "Then who are you?"

He chuckled. "You seem to be forgetting who is asking the questions here, boy. So which ones do you want to answer first? Your name perhaps?"

Relief flooded through Lelouch. The man didn't know that he was a prince, royalty. The worst options were off the table. The panicked haze that clouded his mind began to recede and with false bravado, Lelouch asked, "What am I being charged with?"

"Treason."

His heart began to race again as Lelouch struggled to understand and the man continued to smile pleasantly. Treason? He was a prince. His father was the Emperor and would literally kill him and Nunnally if they ever plotted against their family. The charges were ludicrous. He asked incredulously, "For what?"

Flipping to his exam, the man set it down on the desk and pointed to the message that Lelouch had hesitated on decoding. "Why don't you tell me how you learned this code?"

"A book?" Lelouch asked hypothetically as he tried to remember.

"Really?"

Scowling, Lelouch snapped, "I was six years old and obsessed with codes. I read plenty of books, and learned as many codes as I could. There's absolutely no way I would remember where I learned this specific code, especially when it isn't even a very good code!"

The man shook his head tiredly. "And I thought we were done lying to each other."

"It's the truth!"

"So you just happened to find a top secret code lying around?"

Oh. That was probably what happened. It wasn't like Lelouch ever respected boundaries and perhaps he had found it one of Cornelia's books which would make it a top secret military code. "Probably?"

The man pressed down on Lelouch's finger again. "You know, others have been executed before for knowing this code without proper authorization." He let go of the finger and his face turned kind, "But you're young and the Empire always needs young intelligent minds. Come clean. I can protect you."

Lelouch almost wanted to believe the man. Because if Lelouch didn't... he had no power to defend himself and then the man's eyes would turn to Nunnally to investigate her of whatever crime he thought Lelouch committed. "And you? How do you know the code then? You're bluffing."

The finger snapped and it echoed and Lelouch screamed. It hurt like nothing else ever did. Then it was throbbing with a constant pain that brought tears to Lelouch's eyes. Lelouch forced air to fill his lungs and tried to push the pain down. If he could... kill someone with a cabinet crushing his arms to protect Nunnally, then he could remain composed. This was nothing. But it hurt. Had it hurt so much last time?

Standing up, the man towered over Lelouch. "I'm Warrant Officer Lance York from his majesty's Office of Secret Intelligence. And you, Private Lelouch Lamperouge, are not who you say you are. I haven't met such an interesting spy in ages and that is the only reason you aren't currently sitting in a cell awaiting interrogation, disappeared from life. I like those with potential and you are rife with it, but just as easily... I can make that all go away and you can enjoy the great, generous, hospitality that Britannia greets foreign invaders with."

Lelouch's heart was thundering but the sheer ridiculousness of the situation did not escape him. He was a prince, not a foreign agent. He really should come clean, but would the man believe him? But then, Lelouch had the code that his father gifted to him. A code that would make everything go away... He was scared, and Lelouch opened his mouth to say the code he had memorized. And then closed it. 

He was a coward. Lelouch couldn't oust himself just yet. If he accepted that he needed his father's help, the Emperor's help, then everything he had tried to build up here, could vanish. His father probably would do it to teach Lelouch a lesson. After all, a Britannian prince being accused of treason was scandalous. And Nunnally... she would lose everything too, like her friend Allie. 

Looking up, Lelouch locked the scared boy in a chest. He had no place here. "I think in the future Warrant Officer York you shouldn't throw out such accusations on paper thin evidence. If you wish to continue this further, then I request you do it through official means. Otherwise, I believe my drill sergeant should be here for this conversation. I doubt you will do so because I'm sitting here. You need more than fleeting evidence to accuse me of treason, and if you had it, I would have simply disappeared and you'd be giving this same pitch in a secret prison."

Warrant Officer York regarded him and there was definitely amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Your essays were always amusing to read. But no, with this code, I have everything I need to act on my suspicion. I just find that the soft sell works better. The OSI has been collecting data on you for a while, and if you want to do a proper interrogation, let's start with these letter you sent your so called sister."

Lelouch stared at the photocopies of his letters. He had known that it was possible that his mail was being read, but at this level, it felt invasive. Those letters were supposed to be private and while Lelouch had been careful to never disclose delicate information, analyzed together, there might be clues that would reveal his identity. "What about them?"

"Do you normally write letters in code to family?"

Yes. Everyone in his entire family was rightfully paranoid and unencrypted letters were asking for trouble. But Roy and Gwen didn't write encrypted letters. And those to Nunnally weren't encrypted either. Why would anyone think otherwise? The realization dawned slowly. "No. Those aren't in code  _ sir.  _ It's braille. My sister is blind and it's so she can read my letters. If you're done violating my privacy?"

Warrant Officer York scowled. "If you can't remember how you learned the code, perhaps I should ask your family."

Barely keeping himself from snorting, Lelouch replied, "It was probably among my mother's stuff at some point. She worked with Princess Cornelia one time so maybe she learned it then."

The OSI agent raised a single eyebrow and once again, seemed amused. Either there was another trap ready to be sprung or Lelouch was impressing him again... and he had no idea which one was worse. The man sat down and asked, "And you burn your letters because?"

Lelouch scowled at the reminder of his family. He didn't burn the ones from Gwen, Rick, Oona, or Nunnally. Those were special after all. "You read through my personal files. With my... stature, I'm sure you put two and two together. If I wasn't pissed off at my parents, I probably wouldn't be here. That my mother continues to send letters simply means I have plenty of kindling."

"You always have an answer Lamperouge." Warrant Officer York grabbed the cuffs and unlocked them. "I will see you after our next class. This was... entertaining."

Clutching his burning finger, Lelouch stood up and backed away warily. "So you can break another finger?"

The man had the gall to laugh. "No. It hardly bothers you enough to be effective." He tapped his chin, "Ah, what was his name? Alex. Quite intelligent as well although entirely self taught. He's a friend of yours isn't he? It makes sense. You're in the same platoon and the same... age. Bonding is only natural."

His stomach sank. Not Alex. Perhaps he was understanding wrong? Alex did not deserve to get caught up in Lelouch’s mess because he conspired with him on ways to skip Major Maxwell’s class. Alex, despite all his intelligence, did not have the experience to navigate the lies of the political world of favors. In a few years, his observational skills could be honed into a potent weapon, but currently, Alex had no such interests and was content to slip chocolates into Lelouch’s pockets or torture him with increasingly bizzare summaries of gossip rags. Lelouch had been fooled by Sergeant Malfoire, no, Warrant Officer York’s act. Alex had no chance.

Tired of the games, Lelouch hissed, "Speak clearly. What are you suggesting?"

"But, that's half the fun. And you're by far the most interesting suspect I've been allowed to toy with. All I'm saying is that he's clearly your friend and it would be a shame if you displeased me by breaking the rules of our little game and I took out my displeasure on him. He does have private tutoring with me three times a week."

Hot burning anger surged within Lelouch and through gritted teeth, he asked, "What are the rules?"

The agent shrugged and picked up his briefcase. "Don't share my little secret. Then I would be forced to take action and cut this short. And no masks... The rest? Well, I guess you just have to figure them out." The agent looked up, "You are dismissed."

Dismissed?

Lelouch took a hesitant step backward and watched the man with wary eyes. There was no reaction. Not needing an extra invitation, or for the agent to change his mind, Lelouch fled the classroom.

Outside, Henry waited at the end of the hall. "You okay?"

Still cradling his broken finger, Lelouch leaned against the wall and whispered, "No."

Not listening to Henry's response, Lelouch stumbled past him towards the barracks. Nothing was fine.

* * *

**Royal Palace in New Pendragon**

Nunnally, decked in fine silks and with styled hair, wandered through the long corridors aimlessly. Her cane drifted over the ground discovering woven carpets that sought to ensnare her feet. Occasionally, she would hear someone purposefully walking through the halls, but they always skirted out of any hallway she was in. Making a clicking sound with her tongue, Nunnally heard it echo through the desolate hallways. She had never felt more alone.

Her mother was busy with meetings although she had personally tucked Nunnally into bed last night. It was surreal. Unfathomable. For three years she had lived with just Lelouch and then with Allie. Nunnally didn't need to be babied anymore. That her mother insisted, after all this time, felt somewhat demeaning, but then she would feel all warm and fuzzy, and wanted to curl up next to her mother. It was confusing and unfair.

A door opened nearby and soft voices echoed through the hallways, talking too quietly to be discernible. There was something familiar about them both and Nunnally hurried forward, desperate for something to ease her boredom. And then she knew who it was. Hesitantly, she called, "Odysseus?"

"Nunnally?" Odysseus called back, shocked. He walked forward quickly and pulled her into a hug that smelled of paper, ink, and medicine. "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in forever."

Nunnally smiled and tried to place the other voice. "I'm just here for a short while Odysseus."

He groaned. "You've grown so much. And now you're so formal. Time sure flies."

"Stop being so melodramatic Odysseus," the stranger complained.

"Schneizel, you wound me. How could you?"

Nunnally blinked. "Big brother Schneizel?"

He grabbed her hand, hanging limply by her side, and shook it. "So the rumors were true. You are blind. My sincerest condolences. Is your brother, Lelouch, here as well?"

Nunnally shook her head. "Just mother and I. Lelouch... is busy."

"A shame," he drawled, "I was hoping for another chess match. It's been years since we played and I'm certain he has improved by now."

"Big brother was always annoyed when he lost to you."

Laughing, he patted her head. "Well brother? We have a few hours to spare until we must entertain more fools. Why don't we entertain poor Nunnally here? Maybe she will show some aptitude for chess as well."

Odysseus sighed. "If we must. Why don't I grab the Lion Tea Room and you contact Kanon so he doesn't worry."

Schneizel was silent for just a half-second longer than normal and Nunnally wondered at the cause. Despite Schneizel and Lelouch's chess matches, she barely knew him and Schneizel had never bothered to interact with her longer than necessary. 

Cheerfully, Schneizel said, "That's a wonderful idea Odysseus. I will make a detour to grab my chess set as well. The one in the tea room... is terribly antiquated."

Odysseus grabbed her gently by the shoulder and began to lead her away from Schneizel's receding footsteps. "Outside of the palace is probably safer than here in the viper's nest. There have been some unfortunate incidents recently. It would be best not to draw attention."

Nunnally swallowed as she accepted the direct warning. Odysseus had never warned her before. Perhaps it was because she was older now and he feared that she would be roped into the political games. Lelouch would have understood why the warning had been delivered, but Nunnally didn't. There was danger, but from where, she did not know. She could decide how to act upon it. Odysseus wanted her to blend into the background, but would that truly be safer for her and Lelouch? There was too much she didn't know and the chasm of knowledge would not be filled by Ashford Academy. Court politics were left to the parents, and hers were too busy.

A door clicked behind her and Nunnally frowned as she realized that she hadn't heard the door swing open or closed. Well oiled hinges were a pain. Odysseus chuckled and led her to a soft arm chair with velvet pillows.

"I'll prepare us some tea and fetch some scones. Any preferences Nunnally?"

"Something with oranges please?" Nunnally replied as she ran her hand along the armrest and marveled at the texture. It was incredibly soft and Allie would probably hate it.

His footsteps receded and Nunnally leaned back and closed her eyes. Odysseus had said not to draw attention and while Nunnally's unfocused eyes consistently drew all sorts of attention to her, when closed, she faded into the background. Lelouch always planned ahead and predicted moves with surprising certainty. It was how he created effective distractions at the Kururugi Shrine and how he managed to consistently prank Cornelia. Her skills did not lie in that direction. She was not a strategist. In her situation, information gathered from hushed whispers and gossiping maids, was her only option for power.

Odyseus's measured gait returned and he set down something on the table with a slight clatter. "You tired Nunnally? If it is too much of a hassle, we can postpone?"

Nunnally shook her head. "Just resting. Keeping them closed or open hardly makes a difference anyway."

He chuckled nervously and pressed a warm porcelain cup in her hand. "I tried to pick a fruitier variety than usual. Black teas are rather bitter at your age."

Nunnally inhaled the strong scent wafting to her nose. She missed good tea. "You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do... Schneizel trounces people at chess. I can at least provide you some enjoyment."

Nodding, Nunnally took a hesitant sip and immediately regretted it as the tea scalded the tip of her tongue. Odysseus was acting strangely, but she relaxed as he chattered on about various issues at work. Laughing at a rather amusing tale, Nunnally heard the door opened and she set the teacup down on the saucer.

"Settling in, are we?" Schneizel asked and leather creaked as he sat in a chair beside her. "Do you know the rules Nunnally?"

She nodded. "May I play white?"

For some reason, Odysseus chuckled, but Schneizel didn't complain as he set up the board and the pieces clinked against it.

Musing, Nunnally imaged the board within her mind. She couldn't win and hardly stood a chance against Lelouch when he restricted the time for his turn. Still, it would be nice to impress him and if Schneizel liked her... It could potentially be useful. "Pawn D-Two to D-Four."

"How have you been Nunnally?" Schneizel asked as he responded by moving his knight forward. 

"Ok," she replied as she wondered how to best proceed. "F-One to F-Two. I made a friend."

"A friend? What is she like?" 

Nunnally frowned as she tried to keep track of the pieces on the board. Schneizel's recent move was annoying, as was his question. She moved her queen forward. And then he responded by moving a pawn forward, freeing his bishop, and Nunnally was certain that she was losing. Finally, she settled on, "She's very nice and doesn't mind helping me. And she loves oranges."

Schneizel countered her aggressive move with the pawn rapidly and allowed her to gain no ground, although the central tiles remained hers. "Your friend is not a noble. Is she attending Ashford Academy then? And check by the way."

Her heart rate skyrocketed and Odysseus's sudden stillness wasn't helping her nerves. Schneizel shouldn't have know, but somehow, he did. To make matters worse, Schneizel was now in an optimal position. Hesitantly, she said, "King E-One to D-One."

"You must be attending as well then. Your mother and Lord Ashford always did get along well. Knight C-Two to E-Three." He paused. "Check. And Lelouch? Is he a student as well?"

Nunnally dug her fingernails into her palm as she tried to remain passive. Lelouch would be incredibly disappointed in her for letting her secret slip. And Schneizel... he had paced the game on purpose. Odysseus's warning came to the forefront of her mind. He hadn't been warning her of court... but of Schneizel himself. He had even given Nunnally a chance to leave but she had been too deaf to understand it. "King D-One to E-Two. My brother has no interest in schooling."

Schneizel hummed and captured her queen with his pawn. A move later, he captured her other pawn on the central tile, giving Schneizel complete dominance over the board. There was no way for her to win anymore. "Empress Marianne always struck me as overprotective. I am shocked she would let the two of you of sight. But if Lelouch isn't under Lord Ashford's protection, then where is he?"

"Schneizel," Odysseus interjected and then abruptly fell silent.

Smiling at Odysseus, Nunnally tried to project calmness. He had tried his best, but there was nothing more he could do. The cat was out of the bag, but if Nunnally could frame the situation as Lelouch having no interest in politics, she could lose on her own terms. Giving up without a fight was not in their playbook. Schneizel did not know all the pieces on the board. He evidently did not know that her parents had left her and Lelouch in Japan for two years and her mother had only bothered to pick them up once the invasion had already begun. 

Turning back to Schneizel, she sweetly said a version of the truth: "Knight B-One to D-Two. Mother made quite an impression on Lelouch and he wants to prove his worth, so he enlisted."

The first person to respond, surprisingly, was Odysseus. "Lelouch is twelve! Right? December 1999. He isn't allowed to enlist!"

Shneizel's teacup clinked as he set it down on the table. "Calm down Odysseus. The Imperial Academies accept children younger than fourteen. The correct terminology is simply confusing. Although if Lelouch is lying about his age on the records, it may explain why I haven't been able to find him. D-Four to D-Three. Check."

Chess was a stupid game, but more importantly, "You're stalking my brother?"

"No. I was just worried about where my favorite chess partner disappeared to. Oh, Odysseus. Stop laughing."

Odysseus wheezed as he stifled his laughter. "She is correct. You were in my office, just two days ago, asking me to abuse my position and request student records from Area Six."

Schneizel grumbled, "It's not abusing your position. You just have a horrid fascination for following rules."

Odysseus snorted and settled a hand on her shoulder. "Shall I remind you of the consequences of our last attempt to meddle and circumvent the rules."

"If it hadn't been for your and Cornelia's crush clouding your judgments, we would have succeeded. Although those books were of no particular help. If only Kanon had been there."

Nunnally scrunched her nose as she tried to understand the conversation. "Excuse me?"

Sighing, Odysseus moaned, "The unfortunate affliction of being the older sibling means we get to watch our father attempt to woo many women. It is absolutely disgusting and what I know, is too much."

Nunnally shook her head. They were not willing to tell although she made a note to ask her mother. She might know. "Lelouch enlisted as a commoner."

"What a waste of talent," Schneizel muttered although he didn't seem very broken up about it. 

Odysseus coughed in the background, "He shouldn’t be in the military. He is too young. I'm going to talk to father and fix this ridiculous mess."

Raising her eyebrows, Nunnally said, "Father already knows. And Lelouch is hardly the only underage recruit." Biting her lip, she tried to remember where the pieces were on the board. "I must concede the match. I'm afraid in the excitement I lost track of the pieces. Perhaps another time."

"I'm still going," Odysseus announced, "Children should not be in the military. I will see you later Nunnally."

The door slammed behind him and Schneizel let out a long suffering sigh. "He gets like that at times. My sincere apologies Nunnally. Although I must admit being surprised at your brother's choice. He has always shunned physical activities."

Smiling politely, Nunnally felt strangely vulnerable and tried to put her mind at ease. Schneizel had only ever shown concern about Lelouch, and had no reasons to play political games with her. His position to the throne was nearly secure, and as the Prime Minister he certainly wielded enough power. "Time changes people, and there is something nice about being away from court."

He took an audible sip of his tea. "Masks are wearisome. But isn't that what we strive towards? To have enough power to be ourselves without the consequences?"

No. Power would be of no use to Nunnally when Allie learned of her identity. Only a strong friendship would allow Nunnally to keep her friend. There was no way to be her true self and hold on to power if she wanted to be treated like everybody else. Power in and of itself, was useless. "I guess, but masks give us flexibility and opportunity. They don't have to be wearisome, they can be freeing. Perhaps you are simply wearing the wrong masks."

The leather creaked as he stood up and patted her head. "An interesting philosophical debate, perhaps for another time. You do have a keen mind Nunnally and you played well at the beginning. I look forward to playing with you again some time, but unfortunately," something buzzed, "I have a meeting in ten. Until next time Nunnally."

Nunnally dipped her head. "Until next time."

The door closed and Nunnally leaned back, closing her eyes. She felt utterly drained. Hopefully, there would not be another match anytime soon.

* * *

**Melbourne Villa, Halifax, Area 2**

Brigit, now Brigit Melbourne, smiled as she explored the villa. It had belonged to the Melbournes before Canada even became Area Two. Brigit had to admire the craftsmanship and the view of the harbor was stunning. Halifax was a bit too warm for her taste, but access to the harbor was essential. For now, the city would remain untouched by her brand of terrorism. It was simply too useful, but it was incredibly enticing to burn one of Britannia's major ports to the ground. Perhaps she should seize it, with the long chain spanning the entrance to the harbor, and the natural geography, Britannia would be hard pressed to regain it. Those were thoughts for the future, first, she had to set up her operation.

"Come on in Art," she called.

He waddled in carrying a massive box and followed by few other industrious youths that had the misfortune to be born a Number, who quickly vanished from the room. Art set the box down and saluted her, mockingly. "Ready f'orders ma'am."

She rolled her eyes. "Sit down Art. We have plans to make."

"Fine Brie. Got three dozen fences found. The Viceroy ain't much good cracking down on crime. Couple of nobles in the area taking cuts on the ports as well," he dutifully reported.

Brigit looked down at the massive box and the various files within. "We'll need to crack down on the underground." He looked at her skeptically. "Not like that Art. It's business. Can't have any competitors, and with crime down... well, people are gonna ask a lot less questions."

"Do ya want ta do it all at once, or slowly?"

Frowning, Brigit turned to stare out the window and the ships slowly drifting through the narrow passageways. "We've got some time until I can greet my French contact again. For now, let us just give them some competition. Find us a puppet and support him, but make sure he is loyal. But more worrisome are those copycats. While they were useful for getting Britannia's attention off me, we are going to need to fold them in real quick or they're going to be our competitors... and I can't allow that."

Art nodded and pulled out a small pocketbook to make a quick doodle as a reminder.

She narrowed her eyes. "Art. You need ta practice your writing. And your manners at it to."

Groaning, he straightened and jutted out his chin. "Fancy enough for ya?"

This wasn't going to work. Pinching her nose, she glared at him, "Find me some kid, the younger the better, who knows how to read and write. I'll take care of the rest."

"Ya Brie," he nodded excitedly. "We gonna show those Brit bastards, we ain't dead yet. Got some fire in ma bones. Don't worry, ya can count on me. And I'll check on ya brother too."

Brigit's annoyance disappeared and she smiled softly as he ran out, stumbling along the way. Art would always look after Einrie and that made him loyal. Betrayal was the name of the game, but Art, despite all his weaknesses, was her most powerful piece because he was unwaveringly loyal. And if she had to use her own brother to secure that loyalty, she would. But for now, she had her mission to do that Art could not know of.

Wandering by Lady Melbourne's quarter, she peeked into the neighboring rooms, trying to find the husband's. Surely, the woman had kept her late husband's things, if only for sentimental value. A few doors down, without luck, she turned back and entered the woman's room. In the corner, she saw an old military trunk and smiled. Her eyes searched the room and fell on the closet with vibrant fabrics peeking through. Brigit had worried that blowing up Maineige Delac might deprive her of valuable goods, but it seems there were enough stashed at the woman's second home. How fortunate.

Walking into the closet, Brigit smiled widely as her eyes fell on the military uniform hanging right in front of her. The woman had been the sentimental type and Brigit's gamble was paying off splendidly. With a discerning eye, she measured the uniform. The husband hadn't been particularly bulky, but then officers weren't required to engage in many strenuous activities. For Brigit, it suited her perfectly.

Twenty minutes later, Brigit stood before the mirror, her chest bound, and finished thickening her eyebrows. She could hardly recognize herself standing in a military uniform. Redoing her hair, she pulled it tight and hid it under the military hat. She looked like a perfect Britannian soldier. It was disgusting. It was the goal. 

Grabbing the fake ID she had commissioned, Brigit tucked it into her pocket and left via the servant exit. By tomorrow, Area Two would be in an uproar, calling for Britannian blood. And Brigit... no, the Count, would be there to welcome them all into his arms. Brigit Melbourne would simply be the poor traumatized girl organizing relief efforts. Everything was set and ready to fall into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Nunnally and Schneizel's chess game is actually real. I played against a computer AI on the highest difficulty possible and pretty quickly lost.  
-In the anime, Suzaku is ordered to fire on surrendering troops and, while briefly protesting, does so. In our world, people are expected to question orders and refuse them if they are illegal. Suzaku's characterization aside, it does raise the question if war crimes are even a thing in this universe and what they would be. Before they were properly codified, there were various treaties that said armies wouldn't engage in certain practices. But most "war crimes" were more of a gentleman agreement because both sides understood that doing X thing first, would lead to equivalent retaliation and cause massive casualties on both side. In a world with two totalitarian governments (counting the Chinese Federation here), I wonder if there would be enough pressure from civilians to make violence against civilians a war crime. In our history, the Lieber Code (used during the American Civil War) was one of the first actual documents to say what's right and not. But it still allowed for a bunch of stuff we consider amoral by our standards: it allowed reprisal (aka: we can do it because they did it first), summary executions for combatants caught in the act, and if the occupied population resisted, people could be forcibly relocated, used as hostage, or executed.   
-Concentrated power tends to breed the worse types of corruption which is to be inferred from Tohdoh's scene. I'm rather hesitant of being too explicit although these types of abuses are well documented during occupations or in regimes with absolute powers. Japan/Area 11 falls in the first category while Britannia is definitely an authoritarian government. These types of people exist in every society, but in some, it is easier for them to gain a position of power and cover up their abuses.  
-Halifax is the capital of Nova Scotia in Canada and a port city. There's quite a bit of interesting history regarding it which didn't happen in this world exactly the same way, but I am paying homage to it.
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> Who has a guess for what Brigit is planning? What did you think of Schneizel's first actual appearance? 
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Makeup update on Sunday. :)


	19. First There Was Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ The Britannian police force was almost non-existent. Policing relied either on citizen’s arrest or a noble’s own private police force. For prolific criminals, Britannia dispensed generous bounties to those who made the arrest. Bounty hunting was one of the most lucrative, but dangerous, trades for a commoner.  _

_ Unfortunately, Britannia’s decentralized policing made it highly ineffective against anything more than petty crime. For serial killers, terrorism, and smuggling, the Birtannian army would often be called in. Of particular interest was the 712th Division which went from acting as bait to an effective task force against large scale crime.  _

_ — Policing in Britannia _

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11**

Suzaku heard clay shatter across the floor and he stood up swiftly, bumping his head on the shelf hanging overhead. Wincing, he ran to the source and came to an abrupt halt. His boss stared at the small muted TV that Suzaku was never allowed to touch, and at her feet laid the shattered bowl, it's contents slowly soaking into the wooden floor. Hesitantly, Suzaku grabbed a towel and knelt on the ground, intent on cleaning up the mess.

His boss, recovering from her shock, stumbled backwards and leaned against the walls. Suzaku forcibly kept his eyes on the ground as he slowly sponged up the broth. It smelled appetizing, but food was provided at the end of the day. He wouldn't risk his job by sneaking a taste. Perhaps Tohdoh-sensei had a point that serving Britannia was an exercise of futility. He would never be accepted. But then not all Britannians were bad. Lelouch and Nunnally had been horrified by their country's actions. And then there had been the soldier, who had given him a meal and offered him comfort... Eira.

There had to be a way forward.

A way that would finally erase the accusing eyes of his father as he stumbled backwards from the sword and stared at him in incomprehension. Suzaku had done the right thing. Saved countless of lives and ended the pointless suffering. His sensei wanted to upset that by resisting and fighting against the legitimate government. He had done the right thing. He would try to balance his sin by living to his father's ideals... Even if it made Suzaku feel strangely hollow inside.

His boss fumbled with her phone and it rang as she paced back and forth. "Please leave a message after the—"

"—Damn it Adrian!" She slammed the phone down and began to redial. Her voice cracking, she begged, "Please Adrian. Picking up the freaking phone. Please."

Suzaku slowly inched out of the room, pressing himself against the outside wall. She cursed loudly and he could hear something shatter. Then she was crying and Suzaku could hear the phone continue to ring... waiting for someone to pick up. Walking to the storefront, he noticed in confusion as other Britannians stared at their phones and stalls began to close. Something had happened.

He looked back, listening to her quiet sobbing. It wasn't right to leave, but curiosity won. He slipped outside and sneaked to the neighboring stall of an old man who was hard of hearing. Peeking through the window,he spotted the blaringly loud TV.

Dark red flames surged behind a reporter. "If a loved one of yours lives in Truro, please check the BEMA website for the list of survivors and official casualties list. The list will be updated hourly as the situation unfolds. At this time, we are unsure regarding the source of the explosion."

Suzaku's heart went out to the people as the camera panned over the dark plumes rising from the ravished town. Bile rose in his throat as Suzaku noticed the number in the corner of the screen: 327 confirmed casualties. There should be no mercy for whoever was responsible. It was unimaginable.

Not willing to risk his absence being noted, Suzaku slipped back inside. Quietly, he resumed his own work and began to unpack the new shipment and sorting it in the backroom. The work was always tedious and he scowled, as once again, the product was obviously mislabeled. Emptying the shelves, Suzaku started from scratch, checking every item was what it said on the label. 

His boss tumbled in the room, her eyes red and puffy, although her voice gave no hint to her earlier breakdown. "I'm closing up early today, boy. Go home."

Suzaku stood up and paused, wondering if it was appropriate to ask for payment. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Go!"

He didn't need another warning and hurried out of the stall. Wandering down the streets slowly, and observing the sudden lack of Britannians, Suzaku felt their loss keenly. So many had died already in Japan, Area Eleven... then the terrorist attack in Area Two... and now a new tragedy was unfolding there. Life was filled with constant death and it wasn't fair.

On top of the old creaking stairs, past Yamamoto-sama's door, Suzaku paused. He didn't want to return home and see Chiba's disappointed eyes. And he didn't want to wrestle with the guilt of knowing she and Tohdoh-sensei were resisting Britannia's rule. They were all that was left of his family and he didn't want to turn them in, but wasn't that best for everyone? His father had always called the rule of law absolute and unquestionable. Not wishing to deal with his dark thoughts, Suzaku spun around and knocked on the old man's door.

The door swung open slowly and the old man smiled kindly at him. "Would you like some tea Suzaku-kun?"

Suzaku bowed and let the soft Japanese words wash over him. "Yes please."

The old man stepped aside and slowly hobbled towards the kitchen. "Make yourself at home Suzaku. Let me just wait for the water to boil."

"Thank you," Suzaku called back and he slowly lowered himself on a cushion, observing the worn, but meticulous surroundings. On the wall, various photographs hung, perfectly straight, despite cracks in the frame and glass. By the cabinet, Suzaku could see small pieces of pottery secured and glaring empty spaces where something once stood. Through the shoji screen in the corner, he could make out a large heavy futon, similar to the one his grandparents used before they had passed away. 

The kettle whistled, cutting through the music playing over the radio, and the old man returned with two steaming mugs. "How is your little brother, Ko?"

Accepting the mug, Suzaku blew on it gently and inhaled the rich soothing scent. He missed Japan. "Ko is fine. And how are you Yamamoto-sama? Is there anything you need?"

Yamamoto chuckled and sipped his steaming tea contently. "Nothing at all. These old bones have been just clinging onto life, while everyone has moved on." He frowned and glanced at the window. "Your company fills me with warmth Suzaku-kun. You're quite an industrious child, working all the time. If only my daughter had your spirit..."

Suzaku blushed as the man trailed off. "Thank you. Have you had any luck finding your family?"

"No. Such is fate it seems. But you, you have much more to live for. The entire world is at your fingertips and one day, you'll be free."

And like Chiba and Tohdoh, Yamamoto did not accept the Britannians.

Unaware of Suzaku's turmoil, Yamamoto continued, "Never trust the Britannians Suzaku... not when they bomb their own citizens. Utterly shameful."

Hot tea splashed on his hands as Suzaku's head shot up. "Bombing?"

The old man poured himself another cup of tea. "Been on the radio all morning. Military annihilated Truro because they suspected that the mastermind behind the Bombing of Maineige Delac was there. Utterly shameful, but what can one expect of Britannia. They don't understand honor. 10,000 dead and they don't give a damn."

Suzaku took a large gulp of the scalding tea. Britannia wouldn't have done that. Lelouch had explained the difference between a War of Conquest and War of Honor. Britannia wouldn't target its own citizens. It didn't make sense... And Lelouch wouldn't have lied... But what if his friend had been wrong? Or lied to? Suzaku felt sick. "The news said... they didn't list that many casualties."

The old man rolled his eyes and set down the teacup. "10,000 missing. They're only dead if they find the body."

Suzaku shuddered and felt cold. How could anyone just target a town of innocents? It was unfathomable. And here, half a world away, Suzaku could do nothing. Lelouch's mother wouldn't have cared. She would have done it in a heartbeat if it earned her an advantage. And she was married to the Emperor... a man who had ordered an invasion while his own children were in the country. The village near the Kururugi Shrine had been bombed for the simple reason that Britannia had the power to do so. And for the same reasons, Truro had been bombed. 

Setting his tea down, Suzaku said, "Yamamoto-sama? I think I should head back."

The old man nodded and guided him to the door. "Suzaku-kun?" 

Suzaku looked up.

"Feel free to drop in anytime. It was a pleasure having your company. Good luck with little Ko."

Bowing deeply, Suzaku thanked the old man and returned to trek up the stairs to Chiba and Ko. Chiba who had already decided to fight and silently asked him everyday why he had given up before the fight had even begun. Britannians were monsters. But breaking the law was wrong.

Britannia murdered the Japanese, destroyed their culture. And now, that the war was over, Britannia continued to punish the Japanese for their own pleasure.

Britannia murdered its own citizens.

Britannians were monsters...

But Lelouch and Nunnally... They weren't. They were kind and smart and would never hurt the innocent. Or would they become monsters as well?

Suzaku opened the door to his home and closed it soundlessly behind him. Around the central table, young children worked diligently on scrap pieces of papers as Chiba gently instructed them. In the opposite end of the room, another teenager entertained Ko and various other little children, babbling in Japanese with them. Suzaku must have made a sound for Chiba turned around and regarded him in surprise.

Lowering his head, Suzaku asked, "Can I help?"

Chiba nodded and led him to the side to help the children with math. As Suzaku sat down and answered their curious questions, he embraced the warm feeling in his chest. Japan was in this room. He felt... at peace.

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Frigid water trailed down Lelouch's face as he stared at the bathroom mirror. By the sink, lay a roll of tape, which Lelouch had used to splint his finger. Fortunately, it had been a clean break, which was perhaps the only bright spot in the day. Sharp lances of pain shot through his finger and Lelouch glared at it fiercely. There was nothing more that could be done.

"You know, there is sick call for a reason," Edgar commented as he took a step forward.

Lelouch looked down and forced his shoulders to relax. "I just tripped. There's no need to bother anyone."

"At least you could have let me help," Edgar complained as he reached out towards Lelouch's right hand. 

His pulse skyrocketed and Lelouch snatched his hand back. At Edgar's startled look, Lelouch smiled quickly. He had nothing to fear from his friend, but his body didn't agree. Slowly, his heart rate began to slow down. There was no danger. Throwing the tape into his pockets, Lelouch turned around, "Let's go."

"Come on, let me see. You don't even know if it is broken."

Lelouch shook his head and walked past his friend. "My finger will be fine."

A weight settled on Lelouch's shoulder and he jolted forward, instinctively turning around and striking the arm. A second passed. Edgar stared at him with wide accusing eyes. Guilt welled in Lelouch as he stared at his friend. There had been no danger: just a concerned friend. Lelouch had struck his friend. 

Edgar took a small step forward. "Lelouch?"

"I'm sorry," Lelouch whispered and he fled the bathroom. 

Not willing to talk to anyone, Lelouch hid behind the covers of his history textbook. He saw Edgar exit the bathroom and stare at him from across the room. Lelouch dropped his gaze and stared at the floating words on the page. He couldn't trust his own body anymore. What if next time, he pulled a weapon on his friend? His mind was supposed to be in control. Instead, he couldn't hold a sword without thinking of that fateful day and the blood soaking the floor while a strange red symbol haunting his dreams and the order to relax. It had to be some strange manifestation of his consciousness although what it was trying to say, Lelouch did not know. It wasn't just memories that haunted him, now they seeped into the real word. And he was afraid. For the next time, he might attack someone thinking it was the assassin bearing down upon him.

"Hey," Alex interrupted his musings, "Bad luck with your finger. Guess I'll need ta actually attend class with the Major for once. But you should tell the sarge before Edgar does. Need any help with your work?"

It wasn't fair that Alex would pay for Lelouch's mistakes. Alex, who always stood by Lelouch's side to help him. Alex who had joined the army to survive. Alex who was Lelouch's... best friend now that Suzaku was gone. And because Lelouch wasn't strong enough, Alex would now pay for his crime. Sergeant Malfoire, or rather, Warrant Officer York had chosen well and found a weakness even Lelouch hadn't been aware of. Since when had he become so attached? Nunnally had always been the center of his world from the first time he saw her and his mother had allowed him to hold her in his arms. She had been so... fragile. Then she had grown and suddenly, Lelouch had someone who always understood and unlike everyone else, was always there. He would do anything for her.

Then there was Suzaku. He had to be alive, and Lelouch would entertain no other thought. They should have hated each other, had hated each other, but they had formed a bond. They had laughed, schemed, and fought while Nunnally giggled beside them, or edged them onwards. Then one day... Lelouch had known he would protect Suzaku. It had felt right. And he had tried, even when it was his mother on top of a knightmare frame demanding that he reveal Suzaku and offer him up for execution. Lelouch had always known it was a possible outcome although his heart hadn't been prepared for his mother to deliver those words.

In the hazy memories of a more ignorant time, he could remember his mother's beautiful and kind smile. Never had he believed her capable of harm. She had been so gentle and caring. She had preached empathy and held her head high when the other nobles hissed insults at her. And she had fought like a guardian angel when those insults were aimed at him or Nunnally. He had trusted her wholeheartedly, but she shattered it when they were abandoned in Japan.

Atop the knightmare, her mother, had let the wind carry the pieces away. It wasn't their mother that had retrieved Lelouch and Nunnally, but Empress Marianne. Perhaps his mother had always been an illusion.

Lelouch had joined the army so he could stand on his own feet and keep Nunnally safe. Without his family name, Lelouch had no weaknesses. Or so he thought. Alex was a weakness. His entire squadron was a weakness, but Lelouch would protect them still. Somehow, the OSI agent had known that Lelouch would protect them, even before Lelouch had realized it. If Lelouch did not solve the situation soon, he would be torn apart trying to protect them and end up hurting them instead. He had to reclaim his mind.

Lelouch looked up at Alex waiting patiently. "You don't need to worry Alex... I can use my left hand quite well. What do you think of Sergeant Malfoire?"

"He's great. Met with him an hour ago. He wanted to make sure I would keep up in my other classes. Although... he's insisting I learn the sword from him." Alex scowled fiercely, but then brightened again, "But he's far nicer than Major Maxwell and actually takes his time to explain. I think... I like him."

Lelouch's heart sunk; Alex was completely oblivious. And sword training allowed Warrant Officer York to dole out a punishment under the guise of a training accident. Alex wouldn't even know, but Lelouch would. If it hadn't been used to blackmail him, Lelouch would have been impressed by its effectiveness. At least the sword training limited the type of injury that could befall Alex, but Lelouch didn't allow himself to hope. If he stepped too far across the invisible line, the rules would change.

"Alex," Lelouch asked, "you will tell me if something happens?"

"Why would anything happen?" Alex asked incredulously. "But that reminds me, Sergeant Malfoire wants to see you again.”

“Thank you.” He said and stood up. He was ready.

Lelouch stood frozen in front of the door. He was not ready. There had to be another solution but his mind was too busy to form a plan. For every second he stood before the door, his pulse rose and apprehension threatened to choke him. 

Lelouch reached out to the doorknob and his hand fell away. He turned around. He would take a breather to plan and regroup. All he needed was time to formulate a plan that would save everyone.

The door opened. “Lelouch. Come on in.”

Bowing his head, Lelouch stepped inside and didn’t react as the door latched shut behind him and the lock clicked inside. Sweat trickled down his back as the agent walked past him and sat down in his office chair. As Lelouch watched, the man straightened his paperworks and put his pens to the side.

Leaning back in his chair, Warrant Officer York stared at him strangely. “What do you think of Britannia?”

“It has strengths and weaknesses,” Lelouch replied diplomatically. 

“Weaknesses?”

Lelouch swallowed. It was a strange line of questioning. But then, York’s entire demeanour was off putting. He was interested in Lelouch and suspected him of being a spy, yet did not detain him. Why? Raising his chin, Lelouch relied with false confidence, “Britannia has significant shortages among doctors and scientists. It’s why Lord Ashford started a public school.”

“And in your opinion Lelouch, would the Britannian army kill 10,000 civilians to accomplish a military objective?” York frowned. “The question doesn’t even surprise you. Why?”

Britannia had murdered millions of innocent civilians in Japan. Lelouch had seen them. Had York expected him to be shocked? Surely, a spy would have known. “Wars of Conquests are quite clear.”

York shook his head dramatically. “No. Britannian bomber’s ISF signals were detected above a nice little town. Now, it’s up in flames.”

His father had… “That can’t be. It doesn’t help Britannia.”

Smiling, York stood up. “It’s not the numbers that shock you. 10,000 dead and you don’t blink an eye. But the logic behind it… that’s when you care. Does your squadron know you’re that cold?”

“It’s reality. I prefer to face it head on.” Lelouch stared at the agent and smiled. “I had an answer for everything. You just have speculations. And while you could arrest me… I don’t have the power to resist. It irks you to know that you’re missing pieces.”

York tilted his head back and laughed. “That’s definitely a part.” He grabbed Lelouch’s chin and forcibly moved it to the side to inspect Lelouch’s face. “People are like machines. Predictable and consistent. Each one is unique, but once you know how it works, you know everything and can make it dance to your command.”

The dark glint in York’s eyes caused a shiver to run down Lelouch’s back. The man was a superb actor, but beneath the mask, there was just a void hungry to learn more and gain control. And Lelouch knew now what the type of man York was. He would have bombed a town of civilians without hesitation. There would never be remorse in his eyes and that made him dangerous because he would stop at nothing.

And Lelouch had attracted his attention.

“I wonder,” York began as he circled Lelouch, “would you kill Private Fadiman to save Alex?”

Lelouch’s heart thundered within his chest. Dangerous indeed. “You cannot kill a soldier within the army.”

“Well legally speaking,” York drawled, “but practically speaking? Oh… you don’t know yet. Perhaps you can save Alex still by killing Fadiman, but Alex’s chances aren’t good either way. If he follows you, he dies. If he doesn’t, he probably still dies.”

Lelouch ground his teeth together. The man was implying Alex would die trying to follow Lelouch. What did he know to make that claim… or was he simply lying to unnerve Lelouch? Turning his head, to stare at the bastard, Lelouch growled, “What choice are you giving Alex?”

York ruffled his hair. “Not me. It’s from up above. 10,000 people died. Britannia is at war, but just with itself, for the first time in years.”

His mouth felt dry. It wasn’t possible. But it was. Hoarsely, Lelouch whispered, “I’m being deployed.”

“Yes. A real downer cutting our time short. But you drew the short end of the straw since the Major has a tad more influence than expected. He doesn’t like Alex very much either.” York looked at him inquisitively. “Do you have a plan to save your friends? Or are you going to die for Britannia?”

Lelouch left the room in a quiet daze. He… wouldn’t get to see Nunnally again. With a lump in his throat, he slipped back inside the barracks. They would find out soon enough, but until then, Lelouch would spend every available moment enjoying their company. 

Forcing a happy facade, Lelouch walked up to the group. “Anyone have time to play a game of cards?”

* * *

**Glenshire Town, Pennsylvania**

Nunnally let a disguised Bismarck help her down from the bus and onto the ground. Other people rushed past them, pushing and shoving, and she could feel Bismarck's hand tighten as he kept her close. She wanted to snap that she wasn't a little child that had to be protected, but without Allie, public transport felt unusually threatening.

"Stay here," Bismarck ordered and placed her hand on a nearby lamppost.

Immediately after, he left to help her mother out of the bus. Nunnally crossed her arms petulantly. While she was excited to see Lelouch again, the entire extravaganza of traveling with her mother and Bismarck masquerading as her uncle to ensure their safety, was beyond tedious. It would be great to return to Ashford Academy and its normality.

Dirt crunched together as her mother rolled up besides her. "Nunnally dear, can we please arrange our own transportation back?"

She shook her head firmly and grabbing her cane, took a step forward. Lelouch was awaiting her. "Everyone travels like this."

"And I for one definitely do not miss it," her mother muttered and then called out clearer, "Nunnally. You're heading the wrong way."

She flushed and allowed her mother to grab her hand and guide her through the packed streets. Cars honked and a motorcycle roared, while in the distance, the metal horseshoes clacked against the roared. Staying close to her mother’s wheelchair, the crowd mostly avoided jostling her. Tokyo definitely had more room for foot traffic. The wheelchair suddenly dropped a few inches and Nunnally noted the curb.

Her mother sighed. "Bis—Nathanial. I know how to maneuver my wheelchair... although I never thought I would miss Paris." A car honked loudly and her mother swore softly. "Please tell me there is a more open area where families meet up?"

"They opened up the streets ahead to deal with the crowds. We should be able to find some space."

Nunnally grinned in anticipation. Finally, she and her brother would be reunited. It had been far too long. Almost a year and she couldn't wait. He would be so happy and surprised. Hopefully her mother wouldn't ruin it. They paused and the locks for the wheels clicked. Around her, Nunnally could hear people's soft conversations as they too eagerly awaited to be reunited with their family. 

A woman sobbing. "I can't believe..."

"Do you think he'll like my poster?"

"Have you heard anything from Debra? She hasn't been answering her phone."

"No. You can't have more!"

Nunnally hopped forward in anticipation and listened for the sound of the bus's engine that would indicate the recruits arrivals. Other people shifted around her although the mood felt strangely somber. Hopping back to her mother, she asked, "Will Lelouch be able to see us?"

"We'll find him. Don't you worry." Her mother's phone buzzed once again. "I'm sorry Nunnally. Just give me a moment. This is... unfortunately rather urgent."

Bismarck's hand fell on his shoulder and he steered her a few steps away, deeper into the crowd. "Let us give your mother some time to herself."

"But she isn't supposed to be working," Nunnally whined. Her mother had promised that this would be their time together. Instead, work once again took precedence. But this time, Nunnally wasn't being taken to another room. This time, they were in a noisy crowd.

"Your mother has duties," Bismarck began to once again making excuses, but Nunnally paid him no attention.

Instead, she strained to hear her mother's voice: "What do you mean he had an ID! No—" a passerby shouted, "10,000 people are dead. Air strikes don't—" her mother briefly became too quiet to hear. "it's your job now. Why? Because you were on vacation while your friends—" a large rumble thundered through the crowd as the buses began to arrive. "Got to—two hours. Find me something—you arrested."

The phone call ended and her mother rolled over to them. "Are you excited Nunnally?"

Putting the confusing phone call out of mind, Nunnally beamed. "Yes!" People around her began to yell out names and Nunnally spun around. "LELOUCH!"

"My ears Nunnally," her mother complained.

Nunnally hopped up and waved her cane in the air, so her brother would be able to see her. "Lelouch!"

"Put that cane down. You're going to give some a concussion!"

Dancing out of her mother's reach, Nunnally resumed shouting. "Lelouch!"

And then...

"Nunnally?" Followed by a much louder, "Nunnally!"

Not able to wait another moment longer and her grin threatening to break her face in half, Nunnally ran forward, pushing her way through the crowd and following Lelouch's voice. Her brother was here! Finally.

Warm arms wrapped around and spun her around, "Nunnally! What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school? Also watch the cane."

Two pairs of feet jogged up beside them as Lelouch grabbed the cane out of her hands and a smooth voice drawled, "Your sister is actually real. Imagine that."

Lelouch stepped back. "That jerk would be Roy. Roy, my absolutely adorable sister Nunnally who is by far smarter than you. And then this annoying midget would be Alex."

"Hi," a notably younger voice squeaked.

Nunnally inclined her head to the two of them. Alex would be the boy that her brother suspected had lied about his age. Roy would be Lelouch's other close friend although her brother never actually called him that in his letters. But Nunnally could read between the lines. She was glad that he seemed to be fitting in. "It is nice to meet you all... and that you actually exist."

Roy laughed uproariously. "I like her. She's a much nicer version of you."

Alex snickered.

Sighing, Lelouch wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I hate all of you. So Nunnally,  _ how _ are you here?" 

"Nunnally don't run off like that!" her mother shouted from somewhere back in the crown.

Nunnally winced and could feel her brother tense up. "That's how. Sorry?"

Wheels clacked over the stone and her mother came to a stop as Lelouch refused to turn around. Softly, her mother said, "Hello Lelouch."

"I'm not mad at you," Lelouch assured her and then he stepped away and his voice became absolutely emotionless with no hint regarding how he was feeling. "Hello mother."

Her mother rolled closer. "It's absolutely wonderful to see you again. I have missed you."

A small sharp inhale and Nunnally could hear the faint hint of anger in his voice. "That would imply you noticed my absence, but since you have hardly ever bothered to make time for us, that cannot be true. We were simply never there to begin with."

Perhaps, Nunnally should have pushed harder for her mother to stay away. 

Her mother started to reply, before cutting herself off, aware of the ears listening in. "I apologize for not prioritizing your relationship. It was a mistake Lelouch. I was swept up in work."

"Spare me the paltry excuses. You would make the same decisions again because it is always the Empire first. You knew what Suzaku meant, we told you, yet you would have disregarded that, did disregard it, because he was just a little pawn that would be used and disposed of."

Leaning up to her ear, Roy whispered, "Who's Suzaku? And, how likely is it that Lelouch will try to kill his mother?"

Nunnally blinked as she considered the slightly too high probability. "Suzaku was our first friend... Please stop Lelouch before he does anything stupid."

"Haven't figured out how to keep him from being an idiot unfortunately," Roy whispered back, "But I'll try."

Processing the strange analysis, Nunnally tried to put it into perspective with the brother she knew. Lelouch hadn't been the best at keeping a cool head, but he never had been stupid. Everything he did was for a goal. It was Nunnally who always messed up plans by being clumsy or misunderstanding them. Lelouch wasn't an... idiot. But Roy said he was and he had no reason to lie. It was worrisome.

"Keep Nunnally out of your machinations," Lelouch shouted and drew her attention once more. "She is not some tool at your and  _ Father's  _ disposal, but her own person. Parents do not treat children like pawns."

Her mother growled, "I'm not treating you or your sisters as pawns Lelouch. But as you seem to be willing to enter life threatening situations to avoid me, I would at least like you to have an honest conversation with my son, and you currently make that impossible as your so called  _ letters  _ simply say, 'There is no need to concern yourself with my well being.' I am your mother! Your well being is my concern."

Nunnally pinched her nose and hung her head in shame as she heard Lelouch take a deep breathe to continue their yelling match. Roy was right. Lelouch was an idiot. So was her mother apparently. Were they even aware that everyone could hear them?

"Maybe," Lelouch shouted back, "you should have considered that before sending Nunnally and I away. What right do you have to call yourself my mother? And perhaps, you and father should get your stories straight. 'You are a pawn because you do not stand on your own two feet.' That is what he said. Not even a 'hello, how have you been?' No. Instead, he says I'm only alive because I am his son!"

Her mother took a full second to formulate a reply and then screeched, "He said what? That tactless buffoon! I'm going to punch his stupid smug face."

Massaging her forehead, Nunnally turned away from the explosive match between her brother and mother which had devolved into insults against her father. The perks of being anonymous royalty: one could shout treasonous statements to the world surrounded by soldiers and none would be wiser. Looking up, she beamed in Roy's direction. "This may take a while, but I think Lelouch doesn't want to kill her anymore... So how is my brother actually doing?"

Roy chuckled nervously. "He is a good friend... although a bit of a klutz and I don't think I have ever met someone who can piss people off that easily."

"Or someone who can breeze by all their classes, but struggles at history, while casually remembering archaic laws," Alex added.

History was only somewhat tortuous at Ashford Academy, but even Nunnally, having never had the opportunity to learn as much history as Lelouch, caught factual mistakes within the book. Milly complained about it constantly during their meetings, but apparently the textbook had been a gift from someone important, so Reuben had to use it. Nunnally simply said, "History is hard."

"You're in school, right? How are your classes?" Roy asked.

"They're great," Nunnally chirped, "except history. And math because the teacher thinks I'm stupid, even though I pass all her tests."

"Um, because you're blind?"

Nunnally nodded. "Britannia isn't very... accommodating. But it doesn't bother my best friend, and I can always rely on Lelouch."

"Everything makes so much more sense now," Roy mumbled. More clearly, he continued, "I'm sure you will do well. When you graduate, I could ask my father to allow you to work for us. I'm sure we would find something for you."

"Right. Fadiman Shampoo," Nunnally said as she connected the dots in her brother's letters. His paranoid need to always be cryptic made it hard to decipher his stories at times, but she indulged him. He already sacrificed so much; Nunnally could handle cryptic letters to ease his stress.

"See Alex! She knows. Lelouch is just oblivious."

Nunnally smirked. "No. Lelouch told me. I use Allie's shampoo."

Struggling with laughter, Alex teased, "Your marketing must suck dude."

Roy groaned. "No. I'm just surrounded by weirdos. Besides, we don't have labels on our bottles in that weird hole punchy language... I think Lelouch has embarrassed the squad enough for the week." Taking a deep breath, he roared, "Lelouch. Shut up."

To Nunnally's surprise, her brother fell immediately silent.

Her mother whined, "That never worked when you were younger."

"Lelouch," Roy growled warningly.

"Oh fine," Lelouch snapped, "I will be polite, not because I concede this argument, but because this is infringing on the time I could use to catch up my wonderful sister and I would much rather be ignore your existence."

Nunnally walked towards him and grabbed his hand. He felt tense and guilt welled up inside her because it had been her desire to see Lelouch that had brought her mother here. He could have been relaxing, instead, he had gotten into an argument. Smiling up at him, she suggested, "Let's get ice cream."

"Of course." Lelouch wrapped his arm around her and began to lead her away, "Gwen tells me the place on third is the absolute best."

Her mother's wheelchair clattered over stones behind them and Lelouch stiffened, but did not react. Nunnally was proud of him and leaned her head against him. He smelled different: more of sweat. Her nose crinkled. It wasn't anywhere near as comforting as she had imagined. But then he ruffled her hair, and nothing had changed. The old Lelouch was still there.

Guiding her through the crowd, Lelouch asked about her schooling and her friends. He listened with rapt attention as she described the student council and interjected with his own teasing. Then he abruptly fell silent and shifted her slightly behind him. Nunnally felt his pulse begin to race and her heart hammered within her chest in response. He was terrified.

"Lelouch... what an unexpected pleasure to run into you here," a cool voice commented. "And Alex. I do hope you studied the material I gave you. Private Fadiman."

"Hello Sergeant Malfoire," Alex responded cheerfully. "And I did." 

Roy's uniform snapped. "Sergeant Malfoire."

A long pause stretched through the air and Lelouch slowly removed his arm from her shoulder, snapping to attention. "Sergeant Malfoire."

Nunally shifted closer to him, not liking the man's familiarity with her brother and Lelouch's hesitance to let her go. Whoever he was, he was dangerous. Tugging on her brother's sleeve, she whined, "Lelouch. Come on, I want to get ice cream. You promised."

Lelouch didn't drop his hands nor did Alex and Roy make a sound. Nunnally hid her small frown as she clung to her brother and hid behind him, pretending to be shy. The obedient person beside her was not the brother she remembered. But he didn't move even as his muscles coiled and Sergeant Malfoire began to take sharp measured steps towards her. Nunnally felt like she was listening to a cat trying to sneak up on its prey. It was disturbing.

"I don't think I have been introduced to the little ma'am," he said and his hand brushed against hers.

Lelouch somehow grew even tenser and Nunnally desperately searched for his free hand and clutched it. It was subtle. But his fingers curled against hers and she knew he would be there for her.

"What's your name?"

Under the din of the crowd, Nunnally could hear her mother's wheelchair clacking over the stones. For the first time, the thought of her mother interfering, relieved Nunnally. Making sure her eyes were wide open she looked in the general direction of Sergeant Malfoire. "I'm Nunnally."

"I wasn't aware your sister was visiting you Lelouch."

Her brother growled, "It was a surprise Sergeant Malfoire."

"She is quite adorable." The sergeant rested a hand on her head.

Lelouch finally moved and pulled her backwards. "Keep your hands off my sister."

"I was just trying to be polite," he said and he took careful measured steps closer. "You aren't being insubordinate are you Lelouch? You don't have that wiggle room."

Nunnally could feel her brother's pulse skyrocket once again and anger coursed through Nunnally's vein. Her brother was strong and this man... this man mocked him and threatened him. And Lelouch, for some reason that she didn't understand, could do nothing. Purposefully widening her eyes, Nunnally adopted the look that Milly and Allie had taught her. The one that made sure everyone could see her eyes and while the duo thought it was absolutely adorable, Nunnally found it had a tendency to make those around her nervous.

Tilting her voice and trying to emulate Milly as she put down Sally at the ball, Nunnally said, "You have not asked for permission to touch my hair or act familiarly with me, nor do I grant you permission to do so. You're intruding on my personal space."

The sun suddenly warmed her skin and Sergeant Malfoire suddenly chuckled. "There is a family resemblance after all. Quite adapt too although I wonder, who taught her. Was it you Lelouch?"

Oh. Nunnally let go of her brother's hand. The sergeant didn't believe Lelouch's identity and that was why her brother was incredibly nervous. He wasn't doing a very good job at distracting him, but Nunnally had no idea how many puzzle pieces he held and how close he was to the truth. She glared at him and answered, "My brother taught me many things, but so did my friends."

Lelouch poked her in the side.

"Friends?" And suddenly Sergeant Malfoire was intruding in her personal place again. "What sort of things do your friends teach you?"

Nunnally took an involuntary step backwards. he sounded way too pleased and she could hear his breathing becoming slightly faster. She had misread the situation and somehow made it worse. Malfoire did not suspect her brother? But then, why was he harassing her? Nunnally needed something to make him back off, "Milly, I mean, Lady Ashford teaches me quite a bit about budgeting."

His cold hands wrapped around her like a vise and left her no ability to escape. "Why don't we move this discussion indoors Lelouch? I can give your sister a wonderful tour of the base. It would definitely be a treat. And you boys can go on ahead. I'll even sponsor you some ice cream."

It wasn't a suggestion. Nunnally didn't need to read Lelouch's body language to know it was a terrible idea that should be avoided at all cost. And Lelouch was hesitating to speak, even though his thoughts must have been racing to try and find a way to escape. Nunnally trusted him. He would figure a way to protect her.

But there was a much simpler solution. Nunnally let out an ear piercing shriek: "Mommy!"

Malfoire stumbled back, releasing her wrist, and she could hear the familiar harsh boots of Bismark rapidly approaching, followed by the sound of wheels clacking over. Bismarck stopped before her, his body blocking the warmth of the sun and forcing Malfoire to take another step back. 

And then, at last, her mother finally shouted, "Are you alright Nunnally?"

Nunnally shook her head and pointed to where she thought Malfoire stood. "He hurt my wrist."

Fortunately her mother was quick on the uptake and rolled forward and gently grabbed her wrist. "Oh Nunnally. You sir. By what right, are you manhandling my children?"

"Sergeant Malfoire ma'am. I'm afraid this is all just a big misunderstanding. But may I ask your name?"

"Warrant Officer Mary Lamperouge. And there probably has been a misunderstanding. My son is rather obstinate at times, but I suspect your own behavior might be at fault, as my daughter is definitely the more reasonable one." Her phone began to buzz and her mother sighed. "Do you know of someplace private where I can take this call.. and perhaps have our conversation?"

"Of course," Malfoire replied.

Her mother rolled back to them and pressed a bill into Nunnally's hand. "For lunch expenses."

"I can pay," Lelouch grumbled as Malfoire, her mother, and Bismarck departed.

Nunnally patted his arm. "I know, but it's free money."

"That was... strange," Alex commented and broke the quiet tension. "He usually isn't that... aggressive. But who wants ice cream?"

Roy sighed, "you're expecting me to pay aren't you."

"Of course rich boy," Alex shot back. "I can't afford it, but you most definitely can."

Nunnally held Lelouch's hand as they trailed after the bickering boys. She smiled. It felt similar to her and Allie and they felt like good people. Part of her had been afraid that Lelouch would be surrounded by the same type of people who burned Japan. But, they were just a bunch of young teens, who had probably never experienced the violence of war up close.

"Lelouch," she whispered, "do you know why mother's phone has been going off all the time? She won't talk to me about it, and she said it wouldn't be work, but... she keeps taking the calls. She just mentioned that a lot of people were dead."

Pausing in his stride for a moment, Lelouch leaned over to whisper into her ear, "Mother probably doesn't want you to worry, but Truro was bombed without any warning. Britannian bomber's ISF signals were recorded in the airspace ... But if mother's phone is constantly ringing and she's being called away... that means father didn't authorize it."

Nunnally wasn't sure if she wanted to be relieved that her parents were innocent of another mass murder or horrified that thousands had died because of someone's incompetency. A small part begrudged the fact that her mother hadn't trusted Nunnally to be able to handle the information. At the latest, she would have learned about it by the time she returned to school. 

"Brother," she began, "why was Sergeant Malfoire so... interested?"

Lelouch sighed. "He thinks I'm a spy."

That was... Nunnally burst out laughing. "I can't believe, really? What did you even do Lulu?"

"Apparently burning mother's letters was suspicious."

Nunnally continued to chuckle. "Can I tell Allie? She believes you're totally a goody two shoes."

"No. Telling people would defeat the purpose."

Foiled again. Nunnally pouted. She needed something Lelouch would, no, could never deny to enlighten Allie. Eventually, her brother would slip. But for now, Lelouch would remain a wolf in sheep's clothing. "What if I tell her about the lime and—"

"—No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Fun little detail. Britannia doesn't have curb cuts where the sidewalk dips to make it more accessible. Curb cuts were mostly championed by some Berkeley students and other activists in the 60s and 70s. We're so used to them, but they really weren't a thing before. In a nation that promotes personal strength and ability, accessibility isn't a goal: hence no curb cuts and Marianne's frustration.   
-Will be expanding on this later, but the anime basically said that Numbers weren't allowed to have cell phones. Cue a bunch of other social restrictions on things like schooling (since Ohgi *was* a school teacher), food, and medicine. Radios are one of the few things they are allowed to use because they're so simple to make.  
-Extra Credit has a YouTube series on policing London. Highly recommend and sort of reminds you how much easier it was to be a criminal in the old days before surveillance equipment, street lamps, actual police, and centralized databases. Since every lord has almost unilateral control over their subjects and are often rivals with others, the army is the only one with a centralized database. It's not pretty when the army is used for policing work.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Here's the makeup chapter. We also reached 100 favorites. :) I'm so happy. Unfortunately, while I would love to release an extra update to mark the occasion, that would mean having completed Ch. 21 by this evening. I haven't. I'll do a bonus update in one of the coming weeks. But to mark the occasion and because FFN doesn't seem to have a plan to re-enable PM notifications, I created a discord server. Come in to chat and bug me to write more so I can get the bonus chapter out sooner. :p
> 
> https://discord.gg/uSBegVj


	20. Then a Wave of Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ To all those who can hear me, my friends, my family, my countrymen, I ask that you listen. I do not condone violence for it is a measure of last resort. It is with a heavy heart, that I find myself coming to you because Britannia does not share our beliefs. Britannia serves only the Emperor and not its citizens.  _

_ The city of Truro... 10,000 dead by a Britannian air strike. _

_ Why should we accept the Emperor's rule, when we're mere disposable pawns?  _

_ 10,000 dead! Children, mothers, and fathers. All dead because of the blind judgment of one man! _

_ I will not tolerate such injustice any longer. If we wish to survive, for our children to thrive, and for justice to look at all men equally, we must fight! Fight for our freedom. Fight for our independence. Fight for our survival. _

_ And to those who will cower in their homes, may I remind you, Britannia annihilated Truro for one man. There will never be peace as long as we bow our heads. The fight for freedom, liberty, happiness never ended. Our ancestors simply passed the torch to us. We have let the flame dwindle, but we can tend to it once more. Let the fires of justice burn brightly and rid our land of royal filth. _

_ —Launch of the Count’s Crows (May 28, 2012) _

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Marianne watched Bismarck step outside of the room and began to close the door. Phantom pain from her legs flared again and a sleepless night weighed on her eyes. There was no respite for her aching body. Duty simply called. The entire disaster in Truro was beyond her control... And then the argument with Lelouch. He had been right. She was a terrible mother. Even on the day that she had set aside for her two children, work called. Her phone rang again and she flipped it open to stare at the called id. 

"Charles," she curtly replied. "Did you tell Lelouch he was a pawn? And tell him he was only alive... because he's your son?"

Her husband sighed. "I may have misspoken."

"Misspoke?" Her fits clenched and she glared at the phone. "How are you so inept at this? You don't tell a child—"

"—Your son is twelve."

"My son?" Marianne took a deep breath. "He is  _ our _ son. Not one of your subjects, not someone who works for you, and not a piece on the board for you-know-what. And you don't tell your son that you would have killed him if he wasn't. And to make things clear: he is still a child. I should have never let him join the military." 

"He is not going to accept an apology from me, so this matter is moot. Onto why I called—"

"Unless you're here to tell me how to fix the Truro situation, or have found the massive idiot who ordered the strike, I don't have time. I have an OSI agent to kill." She had seen Lelouch's splinted finger. Sergeant Malfoire must have been responsible. Lelouch had been too scared and protective of Nunnally for the man not to be dangerous. If she couldn't physically be there for her son, she could at least clear the way for him. Anyone who dared to hurt her child would face the consequences.

Hesitantly, Charles confirmed, "An OSI agent? Are you sure?"

Marianne rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I haven't had time to double check. But he has the same stupid look: the one that makes you feel like you're already on their operating table. Now, if you want to stop wasting my time?"

"I called because of  _ our  _ son," Charles shot back. 

Her anger abated slightly. Charles was trying. Calmer, she asked, "What is it?"

"Lelouch is being deployed."

Her heart plummeted. Not her child. She couldn't lose him... and if it was now, then,... She whispered, "Area Two?"

"Yes. The 712th Division—"

"No!" She would not allow it. She would rather compromise all her effort in rebuilding a relationship with her children, than allow Lelouch there. "He's not a Number!"

"Technically, there are no Numbers in the military."

Honorary Britannians or Numbers. It really made no difference to Marianne. Her son would not be surrounded by such lazy backstabbing filth. If anyone found out Lelouch was a prince... His throat would be slit within the middle of the night. Not to mention the relationship he had claimed with that boy. The boy had cheated and made Lelouch choose him over her. If Lelouch returned to an environment filled with numbers, he would be filled with even more foolish and dangerous thoughts. 

Growling into the phone, she said, "You will change those deployment orders or I will pull Lelouch out of the military and he can attend school with Nunnally and you... you will not interfere."

"I cannot do that Marianne," and only the worried tone kept her from immediately snapping back, "if it was just that, I would have already changed them and dealt with whoever ordered them in the first place."

Impatient and tired of excuses, she snapped, "But?"

"The orders were changed an hour after the attack in Truro. Originally, he was slated for communications. Whoever changed the orders left no trace of the original and despite my resources, I haven't been able to find the culprit."

Marianne leaned back in her wheelchair and stared at the small winding crack on the ceiling. "And this means?"

Charles was quiet for a moment. "You were right to allow Lelouch to join the military. While we never managed to discover the extent of Lord Siebenberg's treachery due to his...untimely death, there is a plot. One of my agents checked. Every new recruit by the name of Lelouch has been deployed to a death assignment. The younger and better their grades are, the more deadly their assignment is."

No. Not again. She could feel the bullets ripping through her body and the sheer terror when she realized that V.V. had sent someone after her two angels. "Someone is trying to assassinate Lelouch."

"Yes." 

The phone creaked within her hands. Everything was falling to pieces around her. She was an Empress now. Not a little girl piloting a knightmare and avoiding the attention of other sneering nobles. But in the end, despite all the power she now wielded, she was completely helpless to save her son. "The assassin doesn't know who Lelouch is. They're guessing. You can't interfere."

Was she simply choosing the way her son would die: by chance as he fought against terrorists, or in the dead of the night by a blade? At least, Marianne thought as she swallowed, the former gave her son a minuscule chance. But it was hard. She couldn't tell him.

"I know Marianne," Charles whispered. "We can't be seen as doing anything. If we even look worried, well, they'll know and just kill them all directly. I have... an agent keeping an eye on Lelouch. They'll keep him safe."

Marianne narrowed her eyes. "The OSI agent?"

"No. But don't kill him. It will leave a trail and someone will eventually realize the woman in the wheelchair with atrocious blond hair is Empress Marianne... Did you know Lelouch lied about his eye color? Says they are dark blue in his file."

She blinked. "They're very much purple. Why?"

"A couple months ago. A twelve year old minor noble with purple eyes, black hair, and stellar grades suffered an unfortunate accident. On paper they resemble Lelouch quite well. A month afterwards, it was a sixteen year old noble who worked with Lord Ashford's disinherited son. Also stellar grades, black hair, and purple eyes. Our little assassin has been busy for quite a while. Our son's little lie and failing grades saved his life."

"What do you mean failing grades?"

Charles sighed. "Marianne. Nobody cares about his grades. No one ever will either. And he is just failing fencing although his history grades could use some work."

Taking a mental step back, Marianne conceded. Lelouch's grades weren't the primary concern. His survival was. And if she couldn't kill the OSI agent, then she was going to give her son the best chance he had to fight back. It was the least she could do... after everything. "Should I tell Lelouch?"

A long deliberating pause. "No. He is just twelve. The constant fear... it never helped V.V. or myself. Lelouch actually seems to be making friends and Odysseus said something about that being important. I'm afraid Odysseus is about to start one of his little crusades again. Hopefully Schneizel will stop him before the army mutinies because of his interference."

Despite the tension, Marianne shook her head in amusement. "Odysseus, for all his faults, is stubborn. He has to be, to deal with Schneizel all the time."

"How they ever became close, I will never understand," murmured Charles. Speaking more clearly, he continued, "I need you to publicly appear near Truro this evening. It should be a spectacle. Make sure nobody can connect you with Lelouch's mother. We're also pushing forward our attack on the Philippines. Nobody will expect it."

The call ended and Marianne would obey. Whatever personal feelings she had over invading another country while their backyard burned, did not matter. That had been an order from the Emperor, not her husband. She would have to cut her time with her daughter and son short. Biting her lip, she considered Nunnally's safety. Charles hadn't mentioned any targeted attacks against her, but there was always a possibility. She would send Bismarck with Nunnally. It wasn't safe for a blind girl to travel alone anyway.

Marianne rolled up to the door and knocked. The door opened and the probable OSI agent entered, followed by Bismarck. The door clicked shut. The blond man glanced around the room nonchalantly and his eyes settled on the phone in her clenched fist. She narrowed her eyes at him. He had dared to hurt her son but stood in the room without a care. It took gall to stare at a mother’s face shamelessly. She would make him pay once he served his purpose.

The agent bowed deeply. "Your majesty. What an unexpected pleasure. Warrant Officer York of the OSI."

Bismarck took a half step forward, his hand grasping the sword hidden by his cloak.

"What gave it away?" Marianne asked coldly.

The man straightened and she could feel the arrogance roll off of him. "I heard you say Charles before the door closed. I admit that quite a few puzzle pieces have slotted into place."

She narrowed her eyes. "Then you realize the consequences for your actions? You're quite nonchalant for a dead man."

The man had the audacity to shrug. "If I die, I die. If I live, I live. Of the two, life is much harder to navigate. The question is simply what you'll choose your majesty? I broke his highness's finger after all."

Marianne's glare deepened. There was no doubt anymore. He had dared to hurt her son. Did she truly need him? A simple accident and he would disappear from everyone's mind to trouble no one again. Charles had been explicit. She couldn't kill him for her son's safety. Another question nagged at her mind. If things had become so tense between Lelouch and this agent, why hadn't her son used the code. Charles had given Lelouch the code to avoid exactly this type of a situation. Why hadn't her son used it? Would he rather break his bones than rely on his parents? She scowled. "Bismarck. Break his wrist."

York's eyebrows raised and to his credit, he didn't step back as Bismarck lunged forward and pinned his hand. There was a small crack and Marianne watched York's face as it contorted in pain. It wasn't enough, but for now, it would sate her thirst for revenge on her son's behalf. She smiled sweetly and rolled the wheelchair closer, enjoying his eyes widening and the slight rise in his shoulders. He wasn't as calm as he wished. Good.

"A simple accident. Just like my son's finger. Isn't that right?"

Moving his hand slowly, he straightened. "Had a nasty stumble and failed to catch myself properly."

"Good," Marianne praised him. If he was the leak that led to the assassin, then she could kill him and find the perpetrators. There would be no need for games. "Why were you stationed here?"

"Standard rotation your majesty. I have been stationed here for four years." He looked at her squarely in the eyes. "What do you require from me your majesty?"

Marianne fist tightened. The timeline meant that he hadn't been stationed to spy on her son for V.V. Unfortunately, there was nothing to indicate that he was the leak. In fact, judging from his keen interest in her son and the fact that Lelouch had only been questioned and not arrested... "Stop trying to recruit my son into the OSI."

A small frown on York's face flickered by. 

"From now on, you serve me. You will run all reports by me first before sending them off to the OSI. If the Director ever contacts you, you will avoid saying anything about Lelouch. If he asks explicitly, you will do your best to divert his attention. Then you will contact me immediately." Marianne took a deep breath. That would help mitigate V.V. if he ever began to show interest in Lelouch. "You will pull in whatever favors you have, and follow my son when he is deployed."

York smiled and his eyes gleamed. "Already done your majesty. The 712th always causes so much trouble anyway. The OSI was thrilled to have someone show interests. I do admit that I had been hoping his original deployment orders to communications had gone through. I had to pull quite a few strings for a student so abysmal at history."

Marianne scowled at the mention of history. Her son had always had a deep fascination for the subject. His failure was a disservice to himself and she was going to... Well, writing a letter was probably useless. Shaking her head slightly, she turned her attention back to York. "If you harm a hair on my son's head, a broken finger will be the least of your concerns. The Emperor would be most displeased."

Finally, she got a reaction. His face paled slightly and Marianne gloated. She, unlike her foolish son, was quite capable of wielding Charles's power as a weapon. Everyone knew to fear Charles and his army of shadows that rose to his bidding. The unspeakables that served Charles and by extension, Marianne, were unquestionably loyal. Any traitorous thoughts could be rewritten to make the unspeakables into the perfect tool, such was the power of Charles's geass. Not that the general population knew that. They just knew those who drew the Emperor's ire would simply disappear. Everyone had a weakness. Even York.

Marianne tilted her head slightly. "You will make sure that my son stays alive."

Still slightly pale, he nodded. "Of course your majesty. I will die before I let him be harmed."

"Good you understand perfectly," because failure would invite a fate worse than death. She turned to Bismarck. "I need to get to the airport. Afterwards, you will make sure to accompany Nunnally back home and, if I am still busy, you will bring her back to school when the break ends."

"But the Emperor," Bismarck tried to protest.

Marianne rolled her eyes and patted the small gun hidden at her side. "I am perfectly capable of protecting myself against minor threats. I will explain on my way."

* * *

**Quebec, Area 2**

Brigit, dressed in white robes and with a fake mustache, addressed the assembled crowd clearly. Their ferocious eyes watched her carefully, but she knew their hearts yearned for actions. Everyone had known directly, or indirectly, someone in Truro. They had never considered such violence fathomable, and they responded with primal instincts. Graffiti covered the walls and planks barricaded windows. The glass shards became their own symphony as feet blasted them to smithereens. 

Her keen eyes spotted a Britannian soldier pressed against the wall. He was trying to hide behind the dumpster, but the muzzle of his gun flashing under the unforgiving sun, gave him away. He was smart. He knew the mob was thirsting for revenge and meaning in the new confusing world she had introduced them to. In time, she would mold their raging inferno into a cold deadly sword.

She stepped away from the podium as Art alerted her to the approaching forces that some lord had finally been able to put together. The sun was slowly beginning to descend and the flames of the sunset rose on the horizon. It was distinctly appropriate and Brigit turned to the approaching forces in their fast knightmare frames. They thought they were safe, but she knew those frames. 

Her hand swung out as the knightmare rounded the corner with its rifle aimed high and bullets already tearing through the sky. So typical. Gathering the necessary outrage, she shouted so the world could hear, "See our oppressors. They use not words but bullets when we voice our concerns. To them, we have no use! We're replaceable. Cogs in a machine."

The moron in the knightmare finally realized that he should be aiming at the self-proclaimed count instead of the sky and the rifle swung around to point at her. She laughed. Letting it echo through the buildings.

"Britannia will claim I am a terrorist. But," she swung out her arms and pointed at the knightmare and the cracking street beneath its feet and the street slowly filling up, "these are the true terrorists. They bomb our towns. They destroy our streets. Our homes," a shingle struck the ground as if to emphasize her point, "Our lives. This is the true Britannia! The world hears us. The world sees us. So I ask you Britannia, will you fire on an unarmed man!"

A slightly nicer knightmare with convenient shoulder plates to signify a higher rank, rolled forward. Distorted through the speaker, a posh accented voice ordered, "Everyone on your knees. Surrender peacefully and you will not be harmed."

Sometimes they made things too easy. Art was already in position with the knightmare frame that she had insured would survive the explosion at Maineige Delac. He didn't even need to have good aim because the security forces had foolishly clustered themselves together. She had never been the conductor in an orchestra, but as she took a step forward, she wondered if this was what it felt like with the audience waiting in anticipation for her to move.

And she would give them a show.

"Harm? You, who have already caused us harm, claim that you will not harm us. Where is our compensation? We need those roads. We need those shops. We need security from the lords you serve. Because the truth is all you do is take and take and take. I will never surrender!"

Bullets whizzed past her with a high pitched whine like a violinist who had suddenly run ahead of tempo. She frowned in irritation. They hadn't been aiming for her fortunately. They didn't want to martyr her. No, if they wanted to keep control, they would make her disappear or break her spirit and then tout her in front of the audience and tell the world she regretted her mistakes. 

Someone in the crowd screamed and Brigit forced the inching smile to remain off her face. It was all too perfect. Stepping forward, she walked closer to the knightmares. "You, who indiscriminately kill, will find my justice is swift and kind. And may the world see you fall."

Art took the signal and his reinforced slash-harkens shot through the air and pierced the commander's knightmare frame. The world held its breath as the insurmountable frame toppled to the side. The next knightmare surged forward, intent on taking revenge, and the ground rippled as the concussive bomb she had concealed earlier was finally detonated. 

And like dominoes they fell. 

The mob surged forward, picking up loose bricks and tools. Like a murder of crows they descended on the downed knightmare frames to take revenge for their fallen comrades. A murder of crows... Brigit smiled as she stood in the midst of the sudden chaos. The world was watching as she stood surrounded by her flock.

Seeing a camera, Brigit bowed. "I am the Count of Crows. And today, I make a promise, we will cleanse Britannia. We will never surrender!"

She slipped into the mob and past the screaming knight pulled out of the knightmare frame. The mob would deliver justice today. His death would be on all their consciousness. Some would back out, but after the first die was cast, what was a little more death? Turning into an alleyway, Brigit slipped out of her costume and tucked it into a small backpack. 

Her phone rang. It was Art.

"Brie," he hissed, sounding panicked. 

She frowned. "You got the knightmare out? It's invaluable."

"No, yes," he groaned, "it's not that. Empress Marianne just landed in Montreal."

"Shit." The woman was a terror in a knightmare frame and a brilliant commander. Brigit had hoped that her accident would make her weaker, but instead, she had stormed through Area Eleven with a brand new knightmare frame at an even more terrifying pace. That woman was not a foe Brigit was ready to face on the battlefield yet. And the rumors... On an intellectual level, Brigit had to admire the woman for her ability to climb all the way from a commoner status to an Empress, while not being seen as the Emperor's toy. "Why would the Emperor send her here? We hardly began!"

Art moaned, "I don't know! Once it was clear you weren't going to surrender, the Britannian news cut to her arrival. How can someone be so terrifying?"

Of course Brigit's opening gambit would be overshadowed by a royal. "Any chance we can take her out?"

Static crackled. "You have heard the rumors? She would have bombed Truro with no hesitation. Maybe she even did. If we fail, she will raze Area Two to the ground. You know Area Seven? She conquered it in two months, and she was the only one with a knightmare at the time."

Brigit ran her hand through her hair as she released it from its confines. Art was too compassionate to make the hard calls. He did not see the boon she had granted their cause by bombing Truro. He was simply horrified. It was a shame. Unfortunately, too many were of his mind and any plans to assassinate the Empress would result in backlash. She did not hold their loyalty tightly enough yet to commit such an action.

“I understand. We’ll rendezvous by my brother. Make sure that nobody can find the knightmare and nothing can be traced back to either of us. We cannot let her catch scent of anything if we wish to survive.”

* * *

**Ash Manor, Tokyo, Area 11**

Reuben's hand shot forward to turn off the recording, as Milly's head peeked through the door.

"Grandfather? You look pale." She stepped inside the room, straightened the loose pieces of paper, and leaned against the desk while her worried eyes examined him.

"Just busy with work. We should make a plan for the weekend. I think some time in the sun would do me some good," he answered. He really should spend more time with his granddaughter and work was hardly an appropriate excuse.

"Is it because of the Count? There are rumors." Her worried eyes bore into him. "I can't believe Britannia would do that."

Years ago, Reuben wouldn't have believed it as well. But the conquest of Area Eleven had opened his eyes to the callousness and sheer destructive power of the Britannian army. Despite what the Count might have claimed, he doubted the Emperor had ordered the attack. Most likely it was some overzealous noble blindsided by dreams of a prestigious promotion... and nobody questioned orders. One bad apple was all it took to cause a massacre.

Grabbing Millys' hand, he shook his head. "Dear, you really shouldn't be watching such things. The army is perfectly capable of dealing with some terrorists. They have done it before without problems."

"But," she protested and guilt welled in his heart.

"You don't have to worry about the Count. He will remain in Area Two. We're perfectly safe."

Her eyes began to tear up. "But Lelouch. He is in the army now."

Pulling her in for a hug, he rubbed her back gently. "Milly, Lelouch is still in training. It will be some time before he sees combat. And by then, the Count will be dealt with. You have nothing to worry about."

She hugged him back eagerly. "You sure?"

"Yes Milly." Pushing her back slightly, he gazed at the tears trailing down her face. "Why don't you wash up and we'll have dinner tonight. Just the two of us like old times. I just need to finish some stuff here."

Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she nodded. Before exiting the room, she turned around and forced a sad smile. "Don't work too hard grandpa."

Then she was gone.

Reuben turned back to his recording of the Count's enigmatic speech. While he had faith in Britannia's strength, he couldn't help the sickening feeling in his gut. There was simply something too convenient in the timings of the Area Two attacks, but none of the nobles there would ever listen to his concerns. In the end, all Reuben could do was focus on his own lands and the rebel groups sprouting in his backyard. Margrave Greenford and his ilk thought Reuben was too weak. They expected him to fail, and had sent the newly appointed Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald to head the Purist Faction and take Reuben's place when he fell from the Emperor’s grace.

Part of him felt sorry for the boy who was too blind to see the manipulations around him. Jeremiah had faith in Margrave Greenford, and believed in noblesse oblige . Time would tell if he continued to remain a piece or become a player, but currently, he wasn't a threat. Reuben would have to step up and become a player.

And he would start by curbing Prince Clovis's incredibly foolhardy decisions.

* * *

**Fort Necessity, Pennsylvania**

Lelouch sat across from the Drill Sergeant with his squad by his side. The man looked tired and he could see the dark bags under his eyes. Lelouch's hands clenched in his laps. He knew what was happening. He was about to be deployed to a position that practically guaranteed death according to York. It had been wonderful to see Nunnally, but whatever peace he had, was now gone. The Drill Sergeant grabbed his mug of coffee and drained it swiftly.

Blearily, the Drill Sergeant stared at the squad. "Private Lamperouge does not have a choice, but the rest of you have some options regarding where you wish to be deployed."

The door banged open and York walked in. "Good you haven't started."

Lelouch's jaw dropped. The last time he had seen York, he had been leaving with his mother. How was the man still alive? Lelouch had thought, believed, his mother to be more protective.

The Drill Sergeant glared at the man. "Sergeant Malfoire, you're late."

York's slight smile and dilated pupils sent shivers down Lelouch's spine. The man should be dead. It was the only part that Lelouch thought he could rely on his mother for... She really didn't care. Closing his eyes, Lelouch took a deep breath and composed himself. Should didn't matter. Reality did. 

"As I was saying," the Drill Sergeant began, while shooting York an annoyed look, "the army is being called into Area Two and all the recruits at the fort are being deployed. Private Lamperouge, you are being sent to the 712th Division." He grimaced. "I will be honest. The 712th Division has one of the highest casualties numbers. Normally, squadrons are sent together. In these exceptional circumstances, however, I will give the rest of you a choice on whether to join Private Lamperouge, or be deployed elsewhere."

Lelouch's stomach dropped. It was far worse than he had assumed. His mouth dried and he slowly turned to look at his squadron and their frighteningly blank expressions. Alex was the first one to finally move and Lelouch's eyes darted to York's smug face.

"I'll join," Alex whispered as he stared down at his hands. He looked up, terrified, but resolutely declared, "I will join Private Lamperouge Drill Sergeant."

Lelouch didn't trust himself to speak. Alex... Alex was following him and would die and it would all be his fault. "Alex," he croaked, "You don't have to."

"No." Alex shook his head. "You're not doing this alone."

The Drill Sergeant picked up the pen and it glided across the page to seal Alex's fate. 

A chair clattered back and Roy shot upright, his eyes blazing. "They are not going to the 712th Division! I will not allow my squad to die among the Honorary Britannians, and traitors. My family—"

"Compose yourself Private Fadiman," the Drill Sergeant cut across, "Your family's money is inconsequential. Perhaps you should have reminded Private Lamperouge of the dangers of antagonizing Major Maxwell beforehand." He glared at Lelouch. "There is nothing you can do. There is an open position along the border for you. It isn't expected to see much action."

Roy stared at the other squadron members. Lelouch watched as Henry nodded, followed by Frederick and Edgar. Roy’s shoulders slumped, before he turned to look the Drill Sergeant in the eye. "We will be deployed as a squad."

"Does everyone agree with this?" The Drill Sergeant asked.

"Yes Drill Sergeant," the others chorused as Lelouch finally declared, "No!"

Sternly, the Drill Sergeant warned, "Private Lamperouge."

Lelouch ignored the man. Things couldn't get worse. He had nothing to lose anymore. "I won't allow you to throw your life away!"

Roy stepped forward and towered over Lelouch. "It's our lives. We are making this decision because you stupid ass is going to get killed without me. If the rest of the squadron wants to join, that is their choice."

"And what of your family? You have so much to live for. People are waiting on you."

Roy smiled bitterly. "And your sister? She loves you."

Lelouch froze. Sweet Nunnally would be devastated if he died. His parents apparently did not care, but his sister would. He clung to her love like a life lineline in the dark realm of his thoughts. She was his beacon and, for her, he would do anything. He couldn't give up yet. There was someone waiting for him. It was wrong to let his friends enter death's domain with him, but there was strength in numbers. He would use them so he could survive. He felt filthy for it was exactly what the Emperor would have done. No. He could not be like that man. But he was... because Lelouch was willing to put his life first and foremost.

His fingers clenched and he stared Roy directly into the eye. "You will live." His eyes bore into his squad mates. "All of you will live."

The Drill Sergeant tapped his pen against the desk, then sighed, and his pen began to glide across the paper to sign four more death warrants. "Pick up your belongings from the quartermaster, and be ready to move out by o'five hundred. Sergeant Malfoire is your commanding officer until you arrive at the 712th Division. You are dismissed."

York inclined his head. "I will check your bags at o'six hundred. Be ready."

They saluted and turned to leave as Lelouch's heart hammered within his chest. 

"And Lelouch," York called out, "an interesting choice you made."

Guilt welled up inside him as the door slammed shut behind him. The rest of the squad stared at him with narrowed eyes and his shoulders sagged. He hadn't killed Roy to save Alex. He had killed them all for a chance to save his life. What right did he have to denounce his father, when Lelouch was just as much a monster?

"Lelouch," Alex asked softly as he grasped Lelouch's shoulder gently. "What did Sergeant Malfoire mean?"

"That we are all going to die," Lelouch whispered as he pulled away. He had to write a letter to Nunnally, and find an appropriate excuse. For a little bit longer he could escape reality and into a fantasy where he was a hard working soldier supporting his little sister at Ashford Academy. It was a pleasant daydream where death, pain, and guilt did not hang over his shoulder. It was the perfect world.

As Lelouch walked away, he could feel Alex's eyes bore into his back, but the boy said nothing.

* * *

**JLF Base, Narita Mountains, Area 11**

"Damn," Tohdoh whispered as he glanced over the reports regarding Area Two. What an absolute catastrophe. He knew Britannia was vindictive although something just felt subtly off regarding the bombing of Truro. Everything was perfectly aligned from the reporters on sight before the military had even responded to the perfect timing of the bomb that had decimated the knightmares attacking the so called Count. 

Lieutenant General Iki shifted by his side. "Sir?"

Tohdoh closed his eyes. He had been so worried regarding competition from other resistance groups in Japan, that he hadn't even considered the possibility of another organization sprouting up elsewhere. The French would be drawn in like moths to the flame. Even the man's self appointed title—Count of Crows—was designed to appeal to the French. His little speech had drawn on the failed Washington's Rebellion, but paid homage to the French Revolution. Whoever they were, the Count was highly educated... and a killer. 

The Count had incited a mob deliberately for his purpose. He had specifically said "cleanse." 

Tohdoh opened his eyes and stared at the young man who had been granted the title of Iki the Miracle Worker for leading their troops to safety in the Narita Mountains. Tohdoh could see the weariness in the man's shoulder. If Tohdoh had been in Iki's shoes, he wasn't sure if he could continue to perform with everyone's crippling expectations. 

Sadly, Tohdoh said, "Area Two is about to be a bloodbath."

"Yes. Reports say Empress Marianne arrived," Iki replied.

"Well that is certainly going to make things worse," Todhoh muttered. The woman was a fearsome adversary and way too adept at psychological warfare for Tohdoh to ever feel comfortable facing her again. "I meant the Count. He will paint the streets red to achieve his goals."

"He was talking about justice. He would be a powerful ally."

Tohdoh snorted. "Justice. He will be the judge, jury, and executioner. He touts pretty words, but his actions speak for himself. Where was he before? Area Two has been Britannian territory for a long time. The man just wants an excuse to kill. He revels in it and the attention spurs him on."

Frowning, Iki set down a file, and asked, "What makes you think so?"

"Because I suspect the man was behind the bombing of Maniege Delac. The timing of everything is too convenient. And Truro? The Count must have known before the attack to insure the world heard. He's an actor, and the world is his stage."

His subordinate looked slightly ill at the thought. "Then we will not support him publicly, although some of our men will be eager to join his mission. They are eager to strike against Britannia."

"And if we want any French support, we have to position ourselves as a less violent, but more effective, opposition, but other groups will soon have the same realization. We will need to move quickly." Tohdoh unlocked the desk drawer and pulled out the file Sayoko had dropped off. He had wanted to spend more time researching and find a military reason to attack so nobody would question his source. That option was no longer on the table. "Here is our next target."

Iki flipped through the file and his face grew even paler. Trembling, he set the file aside. "How did you get this sir?"

"We met an information specialist while in Tokyo. She was indispensable in allowing us to resolve the situation without any further casualties."

Flatly, "An assassin."

Tohdoh grimaced. "Yes. She pledged herself to our cause... and she is useful."

"Are you sure she can be trusted?" Iki asked, his eyes cold. "If a higher bidder comes along and she will betray us without a second thought. Not to mention... killing our enemies in such a manner."

"You will not mention her to anyone. I understand your concerns, but it is a calculated risk. She is loyal and her talent at collecting information allows us to remain up to date with the Britannain nobles. She is indispensable."

"And when she betrays us all, everything we have built will be foolishly destroyed."

"No." He stared Iki straight in the eyes. "If she wanted to betray us, then she could have done so many times before. Regardless, her knowledge of the Kyoto House will be indispensable when we finally move against the traitors."

After they finished dealing with Earl Seymour, Tohdoh would finally punish the traitorous group. None of them had searched for Suzaku, not even his uncle, Sumeragi. How the man was willing to bend his knees to the country that had publicly executed his younger sister on national television, was beyond Tohdoh. Sumeragi had simply abandoned his nephew in exchange for the promise of wealth. It was disgusting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-I've been trying to make sure that Brigit would work in the canon timeline because she's mostly been uninfluenced by my alterations to canon. Canon Lelouch... you could say learned from her failure.  
-On policing: In the anime, the police are depicted as corrupt. Often, they sport the same sigil as the Britannian army. I'm inferring from this that the police force was part of the Britannian military or private. The epigraph last chapter is unclear from what time period it is written, but by then, the more modern definition of the police being a civil force of the government. Private police force and military police don't qualify under this definition. Also note that epigraphs are under no obligation to be completely factual. History is constantly revised when knew information comes to light.  
-The anime's reveal of the Geass Order really conflicted with the OSI for me. The OSI is aware of Lelouch's geass, employs an agent of the Geass Order... Conclusion: The Geass Order is a subbranch of the OSI and both are headed by V.V.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Next update will be next week on Wednesday. It seems like I'll be needing to give you wonderful folks two bonus updates as we've almost passed 100 reviews on FFN. It's still going to take a while since 1.5 chapters a week is what's possible for me right now. Thank you everyone.
> 
> To answer the pairing question... The story does not revolve around any pairing. I'm good at writing platonic and familial relationships. While I may write a romantic subplot, it wouldn't have much bearing on the plot, and therefore is in the "I will plan it when I get there." So when the relevant characters are actually old enough to think about this sort of thing. And to put it into perspective, Lelouch was very oblivious. So when he's 17, I'll start actively considering it.
> 
> Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj


	21. And the Embers Drift Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ Britannia's class structure appears simple at a glance and well defined. First, there is the Emperor (or Empress), then various nobles, commoners, and the undesirables, each with various sub-classes. Generally, you stay at the rank you are born and live a fruitful life, while the rare, enlightened, individual rises to new heights. Rising in rank is a reward for good behavior such as being a productive member of society and for the Undesirables, it is the path to freedom. None wish to be an Undesirable, spat on by society or forgotten. An Undesirable isn't a Britannian citizen and their only rights are granted through other's kindness. The lie is simple. Work hard and you, or your children, will be free to live like every other Britannian. This is your penance for your crimes and you must just serve your sentence. _

_ — _ _ Britannia’s Lie of Opportunity _

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally shook her head as she stepped back onto campus. Technically, the break wasn't over yet, but Bismarck's firm hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward. There had barely been any time between meeting her brother and her mother sending Bismarck to whisk her away. She could still taste the chocolate mint ice cream her brother had bought back in Pennsylvania. Their time together had been too short.

Looking up, she asked, "Is mother going to be fine?"

Bismarck patted her shoulder gently. "If it hadn't been for politics, she would be the Knight of One. She was your father's Knight of Honor. She's perfectly capable of dealing with some minor nuisances."

Nunnally nodded and took a deep breath. Her mother was going to be fine. "Thank you."

"Nunnally! You're back," screamed Milly's familiar voice. "You have to help me. So many applications. And Allie is back too. And I need to give the school tour to new students." She paused and grabbed Nunnally's hand. "Oh. Hello sir."

To Nunnally's surprise, Bismarck chuckled and said, "I see you're in safe hands, Nunnally. Good luck."

Then his footsteps faded away.

"Ok. So you're the student president for the middle school. Allie came back yesterday and she's been helping sort out the paperwork and sorting out club applications. We actually have a falling down club. It was a joke! And then some folks want to start an equestrian club. And I'm keeping Rivalz. You have Allie. My student council is too small otherwise."

"Um, Milly... Relax."

Milly took a deep breath and pulled her into a hug. "I missed you, and grandpa is so busy. Sorry. I'll let you get settled in first."

Nunnally smiled and returned the hug. "No worries. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Oh well, I need to give some tours. Technically, as the middle school president you're now important enough to do so. But only if you want to!"

Smiling softly, Nunnally said, "Sure. What's their name?"

"Shirley Fenette. Her father does contract civilian work and just transferred from Area Two. So be... nice?"

Nunnally stepped back sadly. "The bombing."

"Yeah... It's why her father moved. Grandpa reckons that there will be a lot of people moving out of Area Two in the coming months to here. Area Eleven is cheap right now. She'll be at the dean's office and the tour is supposed to begin in fifteen minutes. I have another tour in thirty minutes. Some daughter of an employee at grandpa's labs."

Welcoming the distraction from her own worries, Nunnally walked to the dean's office and stood before the door, wondering if she should knock. A tour. It would be her first one and... Would she be able to do the school justice? It wasn't like she could describe the visual appeal. But Milly believed in her. Nunnally knocked.

"Hello, I'm Nunnally Lamperouge: the middle school president." Nunnally bowed. "It is an honor to meet you. Shall we commence the tour?"

"Hello," said a shy young female voice, presumably Shirley.

A deeper, gruffer voice sighed. "Shirley. Introduce yourself to the young lady."

Shirley stumbled forward. "I'm the new student, Shirley Fenette. It's nice to meet you, my lady."

Heat surged through Nunnally's cheeks. Her brother would be so disappointed in her. It had just taken a short vacation to reacquire all the wrong mannerisms. "Plea—please just Nunnally. I'm no noble. Let's go?" Nunnally ducked her head and turned around. Thankfully, their footsteps followed her. "This is the administration building. Generally, students won't be in this part unless they have a job or disciplinary actions need to be taken."

The tour continued and Nunnally tried hard to not eavesdrop on the hushed conversation between father and daughter. The small parts she did overhear, constricted her chest. Nunnally was... jealous. She knew that they had been struck by tragedy, but they expressed affection so openly. They laughed together and she could hear their clothes brushing past each other and the small stumbles. Their love was so physical and tangible... it was nothing like Nunnally's relationships with her parents. 

And she was jealous.

"So," began the father, "you're the middle school president?"

"The school has been growing quite quickly, so Milly, ah, Lord Ashford's granddaughter and the high school president, gave me the job. It was quite a surprise."

"But you're not a noble? She's willing to give, well, a commoner such an important job?"

"Milly doesn't care about that." Feeling slightly guilty because she was not a commoner despite her claims, Nunnally added on, "My friend Allie joined the student council with me. She isn't a noble either."

Shirley squeaked, "You're blind, aren't you. I wasn't sure."

"Shirley!" the father reprimanded.

"It's fine," Nunnally cut in, "I know my way about campus pretty well now. It's rather empty at the moment, but usually, I'll be using my cane."

Curiously, he asked, "And your blindness isn't a problem?"

"For my toes it is. But Lord Ashford has been quite helpful in setting up accommodations. I'm very thankful."

"Please dad," Shirley whined.

He sighed. "Very well. It seems you'll be seeing Nunnally some more."

Nunnally beamed at the pair. Milly hadn't misplaced her faith. Nunnally had convinced a prospective student. There was nothing she could do to help her brother, but here, at Ashford, she could become her own person. She would always cherish her brother, but she wouldn't rely on him forever. Nunnally wasn't sure what she would become, but she refused to let her heritage define her. Lamperouge was a name that would be remembered on its own merits.

* * *

**Truro, Area Two**

"Lamperouge! I want the area cleared yesterday!"

Lelouch glared at York passing by and picked up the shovel again with his blistered hands. Staring across the broken remnants of the town and the leaning charred bell tower of the old church, he admitted his assignment could be worse. He sunk the shovel into the ash and rubble and flung it into the wheelbarrow. It was fruitless and unforgiving, but completely necessary. 

A phantom rumble of a knightmare frame swayed the ground… of course, there was nothing there. Just distant haunting memories of another graveyard.

Frederick groaned as he held his water bottle above his mouth. "Edgar. Please tell me you have some water."

Edgar passed his water bottle.

"There's barely anything in here," Frederick grumbled as he held it upside down, but still let the last few drops drip into his mouth. "Someone have the time?"

Lelouch shook his head. "Just focus. Unless you want Sergeant Malfoire to kill us."

From across their section, Roy snorted. "You know I thought there would be danger... not mind numbing work. This... It's awful. How..."

Alex jumped back as white bone peeked from beneath the ash. "And I thought the slums were bad. Why'd anyone do this?"

Rolling back his aching shoulders, Lelouch stared across the landscape and the crumbling stone walls. Other squadrons worked diligently under the watchful eye of York. A lone figure straightened and stared back across the ashy waste, his foreign features still distinctly visible. He flipped them the finger and Lelouch scowled. Lelouch's squadron felt distinctly out of place. Hostile gazes followed them everywhere. Honorary Britannians and citizens with too much Number blood in them had no reason to trust the clearly Britannian children. 

Still... Lelouch smiled grimly. "It could be worse."

Roy stared at him in bewilderment. "How?"

Japan had been worse. "Instead of ash, we could be clearing rotting corpses covered in maggots."

"I don't want to know what goes on in your mind Lelouch. But thank you for giving me new fuel for my nightmares."

They fell into a grim silence. The speaker blared in the distance and they slowly wandered back to their makeshift tent. Accusing glares drilled into their backs as they entered the mess hall and grabbed a meal. Alex slipped closer to Lelouch and quickly shoveled the food down as he kept a wary eye on the rest of the room. In contrast, Henry took his sweet time. 

A shadow fell over them and Lelouch turned around to stare at the towering imposing figure. "Hello newbies. Welcome to the 712th. I'm Bern. I'm in charge of your squadron. Try not to die."

Roy nodded stiffly. "It's nice to meet you sir?"

The table creaked as Bern sat down and glared at them. "You all seem like friends. Don't. It's not worth it. Who was your squadron leader during training?"

Slowly, Roy raised his hand.

"I don't like you," Bern said. "But guess you're in charge then. What's your name?"

"Roy. Fadiman. Sir?"

Alex snickered.

Bern looked at Roy and then looked at the entire squadron. "Did you murder someone? Damn it. Gilbert won the bet then."

"We would never kill someone," Roy said aghast.

Frederick shook his head. "You're in the army Roy. But we haven't killed anyone yet. It's just... politics?"

Alex snorted and stared at the knife in his hands. "Speak for yourself."

"You? You killed someone?" 

Alex shrugged. "It's not like I meant to. But he had a knife. Then I had the knife. Me or him."

"And I thought we were friends. Anyone else killed someone?" Frederick asked exasperated while Edgar stared at Alex in worry and asked, "Are you ok?"

"It was years ago. Lelouch gets it," Alex defended himself.

Six pairs of accusing eyes settled on Lelouch. Turning to Alex, he hissed, "Why do you think that?"

Alex looked at him as if he was an idiot.

Staring at the cheap plastic table, Lelouch said, "To protect my sister. I wasn't thinking straight the first time. He was just... and, well there was a sword. I barely remember what happened."

"A sword?" Roy mused and then continued, enlightened, "That's why you hate swords."

Henry set down his fork. "I thought killing people wasn't... normal? But Alex has, Lelouch has, apparently twice?"

Bern snorted. "You're such a cheerful bunch. And probably crazy, but then if you aren't when you arrived, you surely will be. So why are you here if it isn't for murder despite apparently having done that?"

It hadn't been... murder. Right? If Lelouch hadn't done it, then he and his sister would be dead. It had been necessary. Lelouch was still a killer. It was so easy to fall into the trap of righteousness, but Henry was right. Children didn't kill. Perhaps some part of him was simply missing.

"Lelouch pissed off a noble," Henry explained. "We decided he's an idiot, but he’s our idiotic friend."

"You're all idiots," Bern declared as he stood up. “Stay out of our way and don’t mess up. You’re a liability."

Lelouch watched the man leave and stared at his squadron, finishing the last of their meal or guzzling water. Somehow, they would get through this together. Lelouch would see Nunnally again. Roy would run his family's business. Edgar would become a doctor. Frederick, Alex, and Henry... well, they would return home as well.

The speaker blared again.

Roy stood up. "Time to get back to work... blah, I have ash in my mouth."

All too aware of their superiors discerning eyes, they jogged back to their plot. The wheelbarrow rested undisturbed and a cold breeze danced and shifted the ground. They worked in silence.

As the sky began to turn orange, Frederick set aside his shovel. "The sky remembers all deaths."

Edgar shielded his eyes as he watched the sun. "Or it's the blood of the west faced with Empress Marianne's wrath."

"You a poet now?" Frederick teased. More seriously, he continued, "My uncle had business in Montreal. I hope he is alright."

"It's only the terrorists that need to worry. If she is taking care of the problem, we'll be fine. No terrorist would dare to do anything with her nearby and piloting a knightmare,” Edgar reassured.

Perhaps, Lelouch had been too hasty to blame his mother. She didn't have to be in Area Two... Maybe this was her own way of protecting Lelouch without interfering in his life. Why York was fine, was beyond him, but perhaps he had been too hasty to judge. She was his mother. Some of what he remembered had to be genuine, not colored by his childlike naivety. Or he was once again being foolish. Why did he continue to cling on the desperate hope that his mother would come back? He would be better off without her... Then it wouldn't hurt.

"She is amazing. Stunning. It's no wonder," Edgar continued whimsically, "that the Emperor married her despite being a commoner."

Frederick sighed longingly. "Imagine seeing one of her old duels. She defeated Emperor Brandon vi Britannia."

"That's nothing. He was just some old fart. You know Lord Rackwell? She defeated him when she was fifteen." Edgar shook his head. "Just imagine facing her. I think I could die in peace."

Lelouch stared at the two boys mortified. That was... his mother. 

Roy laughed. "Imagine what she must have done to catch the Emperor's attention... They say he even  _ likes  _ her. Out of all his wives."

"Nope," Alex yelled, "conversation officially over. I know where this is heading and it's disgusting and I don't want to hear about it."

"Disgusting?" Lelouch asked. Had he missed something? Sure he did want to hear about his mother's accomplishments, but they weren't disgusting.

With a leering grin that sent shivers down Lelouch's spine, Roy walked over and slung his arm over his neck. "Innocent Lelouch. Obviously not living up to your family name."

Frederick cackled. "Come on Lamperouge. Surely you must know."

Edgar began, "When two people love each other very much—"

"—and sometimes when there is a lot of cash," Frederick continued.

"—they engage in activities—"

No. Lelouch felt his ears burn and stepped back. "Nope. No. Alex is right. You're depraved. Let's talk about something else, like that bird!"

Roy laughed. "You and Alex! You're such babies! Cute, innocent... well not that innocent, but come on... It's only natural. Surely you've had a crush."

Lelouch was relatively sure he had never had a crush, but that wasn't the problem. They were discussing... his mother. He had absolutely no interest in the marital affairs between her and his father. That was simply too much information.

Besides him, Alex shuffled closer. "Nope! Lelouch understands me. It's all disgusting and unsanitary. Seen it and don't get the appeal. Let's please talk about something else before I punch you."

"It's probably for the best," Henry said, "not to discuss the Empress and Emperor in such a manner. They are impressive... but it's probably... inappropriate?"

Lelouch prayed for the ground to swallow him whole. It didn't. "Very inappropriate." Lelouch spotted Frederick's disturbing look. "And let's not talk about anyone else either."

"Spoilsports," Roy complained. "But really Lelouch. You need to expand your horizons. Otherwise you'll grow old and alone."

Alex laughed. "You're one to talk. Not like you have a girlfriend."

Puffing out his chest, Roy grinned. "Unlike you folks, I do. Vanessa is amazing and the most beautiful girl in the world. She also—"

"—Great," Alex cut in, "you're now all lovey dovey. Not sure if this is worse or not, so shut up."

Roy retorted, "Really, you sure—" A gunshot rang around the ashen landscape, cutting his reply short.

They dropped to the ground, glanced wildly for the source, and flinched as another gun shot pierced the air..

Someone was yelling.

Lelouch peeked up, searching for a clue. Another shot. 

The blinding flash of light. The stench of sulfur… Gunpowder. The silenced scream as a body fell.

They were using simple old fashion rifles... yet still clearly deadly.

Another gunshot... followed by five more. 

It wasn't just one person... And true to his realization, another smattering of gunfire followed. 

An ambush.

"Get down," Roy yelled as he pulled Lelouch to the ground. "Do you want to get shot? Stay down!"

Lelouch hissed back, "It's a trap. We need to move. We're sitting ducks!"

"There's no cover! At least sitting ducks have time. We move, and you bet we'll be shot down. We just need to wait. Reinforcements will be here soon."

They were in the 712th division. The division barely had functioning equipment. Perhaps they had been used as bait to draw out the terrorists. There would be no reinforcements any time soon. Lelouch glanced at the failing tower of the church. It's integrity was questionable, but it provided better cover than a wheelbarrow.

"Look," Lelouch proposed, "We crawl over to the church, use the wheelbarrow as cover. At least we have a better chance over there."

Roy glanced at the church and grimaced. "Fine. Everyone move. Groups of two."

A bullet struck the ground and a small plume of ash rose. In the distance, a fiery explosion took to the sky. With the taste of ash on his tongue, Lelouch snaked along the ground. Frederick flipped the wheelbarrow and used it as a makeshift shield to draw fire away from the rest of the squadron. 

A bullet whistled by their ears.

Heart pounding, they reached the burnt church. 

"Shit," hissed Frederick, as he inspected his arm and the small well of blood, "that was close."

Edgar hurried over and poured a small amount of water to clean the area and tore a strip of cloth, tying it around the arm. "Try not to move it. And I know it's impossible, but try to keep it clean. You're lucky."

Pressed against the wall they turned around and slipped inside the hollowed building. Debris drifted down and Lelouch eyes the cracked remnants of the ceiling worriedly. To his surprise, he saw Bern among another squadron. 

Glowering at them, Bern strode over and crossed his arms. "Leave."

Roy took a slight step back. "Look, there's enough room for all of us. You won't even notice we're here."

"Leave. The more people there are, the more likely they are to target this building. We take care of ourselves first."

Listening to the repeating sounds of gunfire and the occasional blast from a grenade, Lelouch tried to find an argument. This was perhaps the only point of safety within the entire area. If they left... they would surely die and Lelouch refused to die. He glanced at the squadron. None of them had proper weapons, and given the size difference, it was unrealistic for Lelouch's squadron to win in an unarmed fight. Diplomacy it was.

Taking a step forward, Lelouch stared Bern in the eyes. "And if you send us out there and we don't die?"

"What?"

His lips curled. "Well, we could argue that you tried to kill us. And... that would have some ire consequences for you. We're not supposed to kill each other, only the enemy."

Bern took a step forward and glared down at him. "Perhaps I should just kill you here then. Dead lips do not speak."

"But we'll fight. And you'll win, but maybe one of you gets hurt... and well," Lelouch shrugged with a smirk, "the enemy no doubt saw us entering here. But just to be sure, I'll make sure to scream as loudly as possible. You'll be weak and injured, facing the enemy. So as I see it, you have two options. You can flee and try to survive the death trap... Or, you help us fight."

His squad members shifted behind him and Bern's face contorted, before he spat, "We'll die together then because there is no way to win this."

Lelouch clenched his hands and forced his face to relax. They had allies now, and perhaps they were a bit unenthusiastic, but numbers mattered. The plan was the next step. He could do this. "What supplies do you have?"

Bern glanced back at his squadron. "You're insane. We can't win... But two shovels and... and some brandy."

The latter was contraband, but not really useful. Lelouch looked up at the swaying walls and back at the group members. The building marked their location, but also provided cover. It... also offered them height. He didn't trust the walls, but between life and death, he would take it. There was still a small overhang, where they could wait. But what would they do from up there if it supported their weight? 

No. Lelouch shook his head slightly. He was being stupid. The priority was to take out the enemies ability to fire their guns, otherwise they were screwed. Muzzle flashes... Lelouch stared at Bern. "How much alcohol do you have?"

"Hey, we're not sharing. We bought this. We're getting drunk. Not you."

"No," Lelouch pressed his hands together, "How much do you have? Edgar has a lighter. I have an idea. If it works, we have a chance to survive until reinforcements subdue the terrorists."

One of Bern's squadron mates sighed and stepped past the skeptical man. "I'm not too eager to die yet. We have six bottles. But if you drink one sip..."

Lelouch shook his head. "Don't worry. We need every drop to burn."

Their eyebrows raised. "That's... we should have thought of that. Name's Pablo. But you have anything else? Because that won't buy us much time."

Nodding at Pablo, Lelouch pointed up at the remains of the second floor. "The area is weak, but if we crawl and distribute our weight, it will probably hold. That gives us the advantage of height. It won't defend us against the guns, but if we can scare them to not fire... then that evens the battle field."

Bern stared at him accusingly. "You plan on bluffing."

"It worked for Napoleon," Lelouch retorted. "It's better than nothing. And you guys probably have the advantage in a hand to hand fight."

Alex stepped forward and walked to the opening, inspecting the corner. "You know we have a lot of ash..."

"Only if you want to. It will be risky."

Alex shrugged. "It'll be my pleasure. I can do it. Up you go."

Helping each other up the flimsy walls, Lelouch lay on his belly and looked down at the charred gap where the terrorists would enter. Roy lay down beside him, peeking at the battlefield. As everyone ascended, Lelouch listened warily to the creaking floor. It was a risky maneuver coming up here, but it was better than the alternative. 

Edgar passed him a bottle with a strip of his uniform tied around the neck and ready to be lit. "This is your plan."

Lelouch shook his head. "That's a good backup. Is Frederick a good shot? I'll need him to throw this at the leader or the gun trigger idiot after I warm up the bottle."

Edgar shifted and turned his head to stare at Lelouch. "Couldn't you just throw an empty bottle?"

"If it goes like I theorized, you'll see. Otherwise, we have explosives which should be a painful deterrent." Lelouch poked Roy who was diligently staring out of a crack at the battlefield. "Where the shovels?"

"Gave them to the other squadron and one to Alex along with the wheelbarrow."

Lelouch nodded and took a deep breath to calm his thrumming nerves. Every gunshot caused a flinch to run through him, but for now, they hadn't been approached. Rolling the bottle of whiskey between his hands, Lelouch continued to warm it up. Once he heard them approach, he would use the lighter to speed up the process. 

A garbled mess of English mixed with French words and other nonsensical sounds, greeted Lelouch's ears. The enemy was approaching. 

Rubble crunched beneath their feet and Lelouch watched the small group enter the ruined building. Pulling out the lighter, Lelouch slowly began to heat the bottle from the bottom. The leader, a tall, burly man with a scar running down his cheek looked around the area suspiciously. A teenager with bright red messy hair and gangly limbs followed closely behind and clutched his rifle tightly. Lelouch passed the bottle to Frederick as the third member entered: a short stout elderly man with harsh eyes.

The old man's eyes began to ascend.

Frederick threw the bottle.

The terrorists wiped his head and glowered at them. He raised his gun. Lelouch shook his head as Edgar lifted the cocktail. Pressing against the wall, they heard the gun fire.

The terrorist shrieked and his friends yelled frantically.

Peeking over the ledge, Lelouch grimaced as he watched the man patted out the flames on his clothes. He called down, "That was a warning. Next time, it'll be more."

"Gasu! Coward! Swine!" The teen screamed, but a glimmer of fear shone in his eyes. Still, he raised his own gun.

Lelouch nodded at Edgar who gleefully held out the edge of the cloth for Lelouch to light. The bottle slammed into the teen and the boy screamed and scrambled backwards. Falling to the ground, the boy stared up at them with wide open eyes, then stumbled to his feet, and sprinted back outside.

"Shit! What the hell! You bastards, just lie down and die!" The old man screamed and looked for the gun he dropped. "Where the hell is it you swine!"

And that had been Alex, covered in soot, capitalizing on their moment of distraction. There were probably a few missing wallets as well which would be useful if they got out of this alive. Alex, emerging from the shadows, struck quickly, holding a knife to the burly man's throat. The old man growled dangerously.

Bern, seizing the opportunity, slid down to the ground and swung the shovel at the old man's head. A sickening crunch echoed through the area and bile rose in Lelouch's mouth. The stout man gasped as Alex pressed the knife even closer to his throat and stared at the crumpled body in disbelief.

The last terrorist's eyes flicked between the soldiers descending to the ground and Lelouch saw his muscles tense and the grim face of determination.

"Alex!" Lelouch shouted.

The man bucked and Alex flipped over his shoulder, crashing into the ground with an audible groan. The gun lay between the man and Bern. Both lunged forward. Bern, wrapping his hand around the barrel, elbowed the terrorist in the face, as he struggled for control. His heart pounding, Lelouch climbed down and ran to Alex who slowly rolled over.

Alex stumbled to his feet, "I'm fine Lelouch. That was stupid of me."

Relieved, Lelouch turned to Bern who had caught the remaining terrorist in a choke hold. Pablo ripped the gun out of the man's hand and tension drained out of everyone's shoulder. 

Pablo shook his head, "I can't believe that worked. We're alive... God, I'm alive."

Lelouch winced as the man's face turned red and his arms twitched as he desperately tried to get air. "Bern, keep him alive."

"Fine," Bern said and threw the man down to the ground. "But we're tying the bastard up."

The others nodded and Lelouch smiled. He had done it. They had all survived their first taste of combat. It was unbelievable, but Lelouch couldn't help the surge of pride as he watched his squadron mates. Edgar fussed over Alex and prodded his ribs, while Henry glowered at their captured terrorists. Frederick and Roy stood in the corner, staring at the dead body with wide eyes. 

Lelouch approached them. The stench of burnt flesh churned his stomach. "How are you holding up?"

Roy looked at Lelouch and then spun around, vomiting on the ground. The putrid stench wafted through the air and Lelouch felt his own throat constrict. Taking shallow breaths, he turned to Frederick who simply sat down and shook his head.

"Lelouch," Frederick began and then shook his head. "Never mind."

The other squadron shouted, "You want some brandy? Victory drink on us?"

They were so unaffected and Lelouch felt the small frown tug at his lips. How long until the same apathy struck Lelouch and his squadron? It felt wrong to be cheerful in the graveyard of Truro, but it had just taken a few days for them to begin cracking jokes. And the other squadron was simply drinking next to a dead body. The idea that he would become acclimatized... terrified Lelouch.

Lelouch turned to Frederick and asked, "Do you think reinforcements will be here soon?"

A nervous laugh escaped Frederick. "We almost died. We should've died. And then..." A sob escaped him. "Edgar almost died. I can't believe... I'm terrified."

"Death..." Lelouch trailed off as he tried to determine a word for an untimely and cruel finale that left the world emptier. "It sucks."

Frederick snorted and burst into laughter. "Leave the poetry to Edgar."

Lelouch scowled.

A shot rang through the air.

Lelouch spun around, watching as Bern stood still for a terrifying moment in a bloody haze, and then fell limply to the ground, his limbs splayed at an unnatural angle.Tearing his eyes from the pooling blood, Lelouch looked at the entryway and the trembling teenager with bleeding hair and scorched skin, raising his gun.

"You killed Conla!"

The youth had killed Bern.

Slowly, the teen grinned as he raised his gun. "You'll pay."

Lelouch raised his hands slowly as they focused on the hyperventilating teen. 

A whining sharp crack. 

The boy stumbled. The gun dropped. 

Silence. 

The reinforcements had arrived.

Lelouch took an involuntary step forward as the boy stumbled forward and their eyes locked. The pale blue eyes focused on the downed old man and then fluttered closed.

The other squadron surged around Bern, and Pablo shook his head ruefully, "He's already gone."

A new enthusiastic voice cut through as a section of soldiers departed from their marching platoon and cleared the area. "You're alive. Congratulations!"

Lelouch glowered at York who flashed him a cheshire grin and then continued to check on the other members of the two squadron while talking genially. Glancing at Bern's body and the blood drying and cracking within the ash, Lelouch silently rubbed his face with his sleeve. If only he had planned better. He should have known better... and then, maybe, Bern would still have been alive. Plans... Lelouch had thought he could plan well, yet his plans had almost led to Suzaku's death. And now, to Bern's death.

Alex wandered over to Lelouch and groaned. "We're supposed to head back, and Malfoire wants to talk to you about what happened."

"Roy is the squadron leader," Lelouch protested, "he should be the one leading us back and giving the debriefing."

Not Lelouch who put his squadron into danger. If it hadn't been for Lelouch's weakness, Major Maxwell wouldn't have punished Lelouch and sent him to the 712th. Then his squadron wouldn't be here either.

Alex grimaced. "Roy needs time to recover. He's pretty shaken up."

Silently cursing the fact that York hadn't bothered to tell Lelouch himself, he stood up and accepted the new responsibility. “Did you get anything else off the terrorists?”

Alex shrugged sheepishly and pulled out two wallets, a cell phone, and car keys.

Lelouch accepted them gratefully and led the squadron back to camp. It wasn't like a simple walk and report could be messed up. The other squadron followed them, just as subdued. The fight was finally over and Lelouch gazed around at the burnt wreckage and Britannian soldiers and terrorists resting on the ground alike. Lelouch had been lucky. Next time, he would have to be properly prepared by any means necessary. He refused to be at the mercy of fate and chance again.

Pablo walked up beside him and gingerly stepped over a fallen body. "Thank you. Bern... It wasn't your fault, you know. We know that. None of us blame you."

"I should have—"

"—Should is such a nasty word. Everything should be different, better, fairer. We shouldn't be here because of our blood. We should be able to find proper employment. We should be able to write to our family. But should is a dream land: a better world that's just our fantasy. Deal with reality and the future, not the past and what should be."

Surprised, Lelouch stared at Pablo, "That's surprisingly... helpful."

Pablo’s eyes narrowed and he accused, "Because I'm an Honorary Britannian, a number?"

Lelouch shook his head. "No. It's just actually helpful... and you cared enough to share it. It's not like my parents, who are Britannian as you can get, ever did the same. They can't be bothered. So thank you."

Pablo's face smoothed and he held out his hand. "Pablo Vega from Area Six. It's nice to meet you."

Lelouch accepted the hand. "Lelouch Lamperouge from... the Homeland. It's an honor."

Snorting, Pablo glanced at the nearing encampment. "How old are you guys anyway? I know you're fresh, but you almost look like babes."

Blushing, Lelouch lied, "Alex and I are fourteen. The others are slightly older."

Pablo stumbled. "Damn. And I thought I was young at twenty-three. Do Brits just join the army as babes? Cause only the desperate do that for us."

"We're supposed to be in training, but the Count derailed that. Everyone got sent out early," Lelouch paused, considering the benefit of securing an ally. "If you don't mind others reading your mail, I can send your letter to my sister and she can mail it to your family?"

"That'd... be nice. You don't have mail restrictions, that's right. Thank you." Pablo ruffled Lelouch's hair. "You do that and I'll officially welcome you and your friends to the club."

Lelouch watched the man jog back to his squadron and the sudden laughter. It was nice to finally have an ally. Being in a division where everyone hated them was dangerous, but the offer of friendship could ease their path. York nodded to him in the distance and Lelouch spared a final glance back at his squadron bustling around Alex and Roy, before accepting his fate. If York had asked for Lelouch specifically, then there was probably more that he wished to discuss. It would be their first solo meeting since deployment and Lelouch grimaced as he noticed the minor tremor in his hands. His body was once again out of his control.

York stood inside the tent that functioned as his office, "At ease."

"Sir," Lelouch replied although he didn't allow himself to relax, not around York.

"Report."

Staring into York's eyes, Lelouch dutifully recounted the events although he conveniently left out who supplied the alcohol. York nodded approvingly as Lelouch lay out the stolen items and looked at the cellphone with interest.

"I will write up squadron eighty-seven for contraband. You did quite well, Your Highness... I'm almost impressed," York drawled.

York knew. Of course he knew. He had met his mother. But why had his mother done nothing? Perhaps now, Lelouch would be safe from York's sadistic tendencies, but the glimmer in the man's eyes was still there. York had let the information slip for a reason although “why” baffled Lelouch. What did he have to gain?

Still, Lelouch had the much more pressing issue of making sure that his squadron was accepted within the division. "We smuggled in the alcohol."

"Right. You burned that poor teen, but you failed to complete the job. Do not add another poor decision to the day by lying to me. The Numbers are not your friend... and if your identity ever leaks..." York tilted his head and looked comically concerned, "Well one of them might just realize that  _ you _ are to blame for their current condition. And then His Highness," he shrugged and his face returned to passive neutrality, "will be no more."

There was definitely no love for the royal family in the division, there was hardly any for regular Britannians. Lelouch narrowed his eyes at York. The man wanted him alive. It was the only part consistent in York's actions. Perhaps Lelouch was simply entertainment or York had something else planned, especially now that he knew Lelouch's identity, but it left Lelouch with leverage.

"I'm quite aware," Lelouch began, "But our chances of survival are minuscule if the entire division hates us. It just takes a small delay or even more inferior supplies. Perhaps they'll forget to share a vital piece of intel. Taking the fall for illicit goods will endear us and my squadron needs allies to survive..."

York narrowed his eyes and then turned around to grab a pile of papers. "You want to buy goods from the black market yourself."

Lelouch scowled.

"I'll let you take the fall, but you... you're going to find the black market and tell me everything." York smiled and passed a small packet of papers. "Sign."

Lelouch scanned the contract... York valued honesty, so he would drop the pretenses. "You won't be able to enforce the contract on me considering my status. And if I become your snitch, then you'll be obligated to shut the operation down... which defeats the purpose."

York's grin widened. "It doesn't need to be enforceable. I just need to file the paperwork. Besides, that contract doesn't tie you to Sergeant Malfoire, but the OSI. We're hardly going to bother shutting the black market down so another one can spring up in its place. That's sloppy."

"You want information... No, you want to infiltrate it and maybe even turn a profit," Lelouch realized.

"Because Lelouch... you're surrounded by potential turn coats. They only stay in line because of fear and eventually the Count or some other terrorist will realize what a boon is here. And you'll be there to catch them."

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally sat down in the cafeteria for breakfast and the table creaked as Allie sat down beside her. Around her, the cafeteria bustled and fragmented conversation flitted overhead. No longer was there relative peace and quiet, instead, it was brimming with conversation and people. Some boys yelled loudly and cheered, drowning out the loud gossip of some older girls and a younger girl practicing her French. 

"Can I sit here?" A familiar voice asked... Shirley, "If it's not too much of a bother?"

Nunnally scooted closer to Allie, "Sure. Allie, this is Shirley, I gave her a tour of the school. Shirley, Allie."

Allie shifted and coolly said, "It's nice to meet you. How are you enjoying Ashford so far?"

"Ah, well it's going well. But I barely know anyone. And there are so many new students all the time. I'm planning on joining the swim team..."

Milly's familiar voice cut in and the table shook again as the president plopped down across from Nunnally. "Nunnally! My savior. Please help me. I need to find minions, I mean, student council members. You have to know someone... please? I'm drowning in paperwork. And I'm going to be gone next week to help grandpa with an event. Please help."

Snickering, Allie teased, "Being a noble is too much work? What with all those fancy parties?"

Milly humphed. "Grandpa should never be allowed to plan a party. He doesn't understand the flair required. It would be a symposium. I refuse to attend a symposium."

"Relax Milly," Nunnally soothed, "your grandfather can hire people for that. You don't have to do it all by yourself, I doubt he expects you to."

"But," Milly whined, "it wouldn't be the same. It'd be stuffy. I refuse."

Shirley, sounding utterly confused, quietly spoke up, "A symposium?"

"You look strong," Milly began and a chill ran down Nunnally's spine, "How are your grades?"

"Fine? I passed Mr. Robinson's last test." Shirley answered.

"Favorite food!"

"Strawberries, no, watermelon."

Nunnally wondered if it was her duty to save the poor girl, unfortunately, it was probably too late.

"You're hired. Meetings are at four on Tuesday in the ballroom! Crap, I need to meet grandpa. See you then! Don't be late!"

Milly's footsteps disappeared into the din of the dining room and Nunnally smiled fondly. She did wonder what was occupying her friend, but Nunnally wasn't going to pry. Hopefully things would calm down soon, at least for Milly's health.

Shirley sputtered, "What just happened?"

"That was Milly Ashford," Nunnally replied chuckling. "Congratulations, you passed her arbitrary interview test, and are now an official member of the student council."

"But why?" Shirley asked aghast. "I'm just... me?"

Allie sighed, "That's just Milly. She's probably planning on setting you up with Rivalz or so."

Nunnally shook her head. "You did talk to her and were sitting next to me. The majority of the students can't do both."

The table shook slightly, and Shirely whined, "At least my dad will be proud."

Reaching out to pat Shirley's back, Nunnally comforted, "You'll get used to it."

Down the table, a radio crackled and her mother's name caught Nunnally's attention. Tuning out Allie and Shirley, Nunnally tried to pay attention to the broadcast.

"In the past few weeks, the few minor skirmishes have died down. It seems this Count of Crows is a coward. A no show."

Another reporter responded, "Empress Marianne definitely is effective. The only major city left is Vancouver and the traitors, who just two weeks ago, were protesting in the streets and bringing military construction to a standstill, have already dispersed."

The cafeteria fell silent and something squeaked over the ground, only to be met with loud shushes.

"Empress Marianne, the People's Empress. An apt title. With her, the other nations have to accept our might. She's the epitome of justice."

Allie snorted. "Right."

"And what do you think of the E.U.'s claim regarding civilian casualties?"

The reporter snorted and chuckled as he replied, "Well if they were law abiding citizens, they would have stayed out of the way. The martial law is for their safety and it has been effective. Surely, if what the E.U. touts is true, people would be complaining. But no, after Empress Marianne arrived in Quebec, the citizens celebrated."

Around the dining room, sounds of agreements followed and Nunnally caught small snippets of conversation. 

"I wish I was there.”

“Well, I heard she can't walk.” 

“The terrorists deserved it.”

“Hell, if Britannia bombed Truro it had to be because of the Count.”

“They got their due.”

“No fair, they actually got to see her."

Shirley stifled a sob and Nunnally pressed her lips together. Japan had supposedly deserved it as well. And once again, her mother was responsible for a massive loss of life. All the justifications in the world did not change the cruel reality. Nobody saw the bloody truth covered in roses. Shirley probably saw a glimmer of the truth having come from Area Two and that gave Nunnally hope.

"It's not everyday one sees an Empress. It was truly a sight to behold."

"Speaking of sights, I must admit that watching the army march the traitors down the street to the execution block is enthralling. The crowds are wild. I believe we may be approaching a record number of attendees for the execution. It seems like the terrorist threat is finally over."

"It only makes sense. Empress Marianne is scheduled to arrive in an hour and I wouldn't miss the opportunity for the world. Now, onto our callers. Tell us, how do you feel? Excited? Concerned?"

Nunnally, feeling nauseous, stumbled to her feet and grasped her cane and slipped out of the cafeteria, bumping into students on her hurried way out. The news continued to play as students tuned in on the radio or the richer ones, watched the live broadcast on their laptops. 

"Live from Vancouver, we bring you the story of Mor Berger, a hero. She reported her neighbor..."

"Empress Marianne just landed. She's stepping out."

"Be safe, to report any suspicious activity call..."

"Curfews are finally lifted in Quebec after a period of peace. The threat is over."

"Marianne the Flash carries the sword, a gift from his majesty himself..."

Nunnally turned into a thankfully silent classroom and slammed the door shut. Catching her breath, she leaned against the wall. After barely having time with her mother over break, Nunnally was now inundated with her presence. Inescapable. Ever present.

The door creaked open and someone slipped inside and shut the door firmly behind them, cutting off a pair of wandering students whispering about the Emperor's Executioner.

That was what her mother was. An executioner. Bismarck had been right. Her mother could take care of herself. She was feared for a reason and her reputation was bloody. Suzaku hadn't been an isolated incident.

"You okay? You just rushed out there, I was worried," Allie asked as she rested a hand on Nunnally's shoulder.

Nunnally nodded. "Just... don't want to hear about Area Two. So many people died... and everyone's... well, it's like a game to them."

"Shirley ran out as well. I guess people could be a little more sensitive."

"She just moved from Area Two," Nunnally explained, "She knows people there probably. It's all of Area Two."

Allie forced a chuckle. "Well most of it. Greenland and Iceland are mostly untouched."

If the Count hadn't been caught yet and was just biding his time... Nunnally swallowed. A lack of activity could indicate that the terrorists were simply lying low. "I hope so."

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11**

Suzaku watched as a tall slim woman walked into the shop and his boss embraced her with a sob. They spoke quickly and Suzaku turned away to focus on his work as his boss pulled out a tea set and poured the stranger tea. He wouldn't be caught slacking.

An hour into his work, his boss called, "Get over here boy."

Suzaku bowing his head, stood before the woman. "Yes ma'am."

The other woman stared at him balefully and up close, Suzaku could see a family resemblance. The stranger clicked her teeth. "We don't need help from some Number. Your services are no longer required."

Suzaku hid his wince. While Chiba had the resources to feed everyone, Suzaku knew the loss of money would hit them hard, especially Ko. Baby toys and food were hard to acquire. Not to mention medicine. "Have I done anything wrong?"

"Sis," his boss began, "he's just a boy."

"Don't be ridiculous," the woman snapped back, "I'll help you run the shop. Besides, he's a Number, they’re a duplicitous lot."

Suzaku lowered his head. "May I have a letter of recommendation, ma'am?"

"No. Get out of our sight," snapped his boss's sister.

"Villetta," his boss sighed, "The news said it was Britannian bombers over Truro. It's not his fault. And I barely pay him, there's no harm in letting him stay or at least giving a letter of recommendation. He just wants to work."

"Bet it was the Numbers doing! They're all liars and cowards. What did they do after Truro was bombed? They burned Michael's house," Villetta hissed, "They killed him. Adrian and Michael are gone because of them."

His boss took an enraged step forward. "Do not use Adrian like that! How can a Number even plan such an event? Everyone agrees, it was Britannians. If they hadn't acted rashly, then our little brother would still be alive."

"And if it hadn’t been for the Numbers and traitors, it wouldn't have happened. You didn't see the mobs of savages. And I'm glad that Empress Marianne cut them down! They deserve it for betraying the Empire."

Suzaku flinched at the mention of that woman's name.

"Are you blind!" His boss threw her hands up. "Do you even listen to yourself? Why should I support Britannia?"

Villeta scowled and shook her head, her voice becoming dangerously low. "Do not go there Eveline. You may be my older sister, but I will not accept a traitor. Not after everything."

"A traitor? You're going there because I'm disagreeing with you. Open your eyes! You're blind. And that boy," she swung her hands at Suzaku, "is innocent. Maybe he'll change, maybe he won't. But we have the Honorary Britannian system for a reason. If he can be of use, then he shall be of use!"

Villetta stormed over and shoved Suzaku, throwing him in between them. "So you're a Number sympathizer now? I'm trying to protect you and you can't see it!"

"I can't see it?" His boss shook her head sadly. "You take everything at face value, not questioning a thing. I thought... I thought you were better than this."

"Guess what... Adrian died. The Numbers killed Michael. Choose where your loyalties are, your family, or some worthless cockroach."

The ultimatum hung in the air and his boss's face contorted with pain. 

Suzaku broke the silence, "I'll leave... It's not a big deal."

Villetta's eyes drilled into him, but Suzaku refused to flinch. They were grieving and Suzaku's presence was hindering their ability to move on. If he left, then it would hopefully help the world in a small way.

His boss's voice broke as she turned around, "Let me just write you a letter. And get your pay."

"Eveline—" warned Villetta, but fell abruptly silent at the violent glare from Suzkau's boss.

The fountain pen glided over the paper and his boss blew on the paper gently before folding it together and slipping it into an envelope along with numerous pound notes. Suzaku opened his mouth to protest and she shook her head slightly, her eyes darting to her sister.

"Good luck," she paused as she passed him the envelope. "What was your name?"

"Suzaku," he whispered.

"Good luck Suzaku. You were... not what I was expecting."

Suzaku left and took a final glance back at his boss... No. Eveline. 

She cared.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-The wiki says guns used "strong electromagnetic pulse to fire bullets." The name implies this is a recent modernization as IRL the connection between magnetism and electricity was discovered by accident and publicized in 1820. Funnily enough, that was during an attempt to prove that electricity and magnetism weren't related. To make such a weapon, at minimum, you'd need Maxwell Equations therefore pushing the date past 1873. Based on this, the claim that firearms "do not use gunpowder" is highly suspect. Military guns and so might rely on the "superior" guns with modern technology, but the old guns would still rely on gunpowder and are just the thing that might be flying around that a terrorist group would be able to stock up on. They might even be in production still for things like hunting or simply history enthusiasts.  
-Brandy varies wildly in alcohol content with the upper end being 60%. According to a handy dandy research paper, at ~50 ethanol in water, the flash point is 19.8 C (68 F). Flash point refers to when a compound can be ignited via vapors given a spark. Guns emit a small spark and there are recorded cases of this igniting gasoline fumes. Therefore... theoretically, Lelouch's plan should work and the gun would ignite the alcohol. The fire would probably be not very hot and quickly run its course, therefore making this is more of a scare tactic. Please don't attempt this...  
-On linguistics... language evolve super quickly and accents are insane. I imagine each Area has its own dialect, which is probably some weird mash of the local's language and English. For Area Two, I imagined a huge originally French population, with a latter surge in Irish immigration. Kallen's name is actually Irish... Regardless, this means that Area Two would have a very unique dialect (probably multiple) that would be indiscernible to someone who just knows English... or even knew English, French, and Irish. This phenomena can be seen in the German dialects which, despite everyone speaking High German, locals would use low German and while there may be similar sounds and grammar, often words do not have the same meaning. Another case is Mesoamerica which has incredibly high linguistic diversity and five main language families. I do not have the patience for conlang... so I'm just mashing stuff through Google translate or not bothering. But keep this in mind, because it's very hard to surveil an area when the language is indicipherable to anyone not a native.
> 
> Author's Note:  
**Update schedule changing to every other week**  
I know I said 1.5 chapters per week, but I forgot to account for editing and research. Also... this chapter was 8.3k which is way too long to write in one week. I prefer to maintain a consistent update schedule and currently, I'm slipping way too often which displeases me. Therefore, to maintain a high level of quality and so I can keep doing random research on things like the flashpoint of alcohol... and not crush my beta with my word count, this fic is moving to every other week. I will continue to dedicate the same amount of time to this fic, so it's not like you're getting less words, and perhaps in the future, I will resume a weekly update schedule. 
> 
> x1tears1X you're amazing! 
> 
> I'm always open to more people betaing as long as your workflow meshes with ours. :)
> 
> See you in two weeks.
> 
> Discord, where I post random art, musings, and snippets of the upcoming chapter. Drop in to chat. :)  
https://discord.gg/uSBegVj


	22. A House of Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ For indentured servants and labor prisoners, the lie of opportunity is almost the truth. These people were Britannian citizens, and their lack of status is a temporary affliction that can be remedied by serving time. One must ask, who finds themselves in such a position? A noble would be a rare sight, but a Number, or minority group will find themselves disproportionately represented. Too often indentured servants are Numbers, or orphans that have been tricked into signing a contract. They have committed no crime but ignorance. They will work hard, but the noble is crafty, and when the sentence is up, they find themselves owing hundreds of pounds for accrued damages and thus bound in a new contract. The labor prisoner simply lacked the wealth to bribe the judge ,or made a powerful enemy among the nobles. A labor prisoner must do any job asked of them and any perceived slight can be punished anywhere from withholding food to flogging.  _

_ It is the Numbers, that this great lie of opportunity targets and who are punished for their birth in a manner befitting Tantalus. The promise of citizenship by becoming an Honorary Britannian is dangled before them. While Honorary Britannians are legally citizens, Britannian culture refuses to accept them as such. Even children, with only a drop of Number blood in their veins, are met with rampant discrimination. The entire Number system is a carefully designed tool of oppression. A Number is not allowed to educate themselves and others through formal schooling, nor are they allowed to provide medical care. This practice creates a population heavily reliant on the local population and leaves them vulnerable to exploitation. Additionally, Numbers may not own property, worship in public, or possess weapons. The Viceroy may restrict rights even further by implementing travel and communication restrictions. The Number embraces the prospect of freedom, and becomes an Honorary Britannian, only to find that in doing so, their cultural identity is stripped away.  _

_ —Britannia's Lie of Opportunity _

* * *

**Athene Villa, New Pendragon**

Cornelia laughed as her sister Euphie playfully shoved her out of the chair. Her sister was absolutely adorable and Cornelia took the opportunity to straighten. Her legs were finally functioning after substantial physical therapy. Distant voices echoed through the hallway and Cornelia paused... that was her... mother, Empress Victoria. Her voice was shrill as always and Cornelia stood up, gently tucking an errant strand of hair behind Euphie’s ear. Conversations with her mother were always... unpleasant. 

Euphie hugged her tightly and buried her face in Cornelia's skirt and mumbled, "I don't want mother to yell at you again."

"Hush, Euphie," Cornelia whispered as she soothed Euphie's frizzy hair, "You don't have to worry. Mother cannot take you away from me."

"Please don't leave," her sister pleaded as her large violet eyes bore into Cornelia's soul. "I was so terrified when I heard about your accident. You were lucky."

"No need for that Euphie. I'm perfectly fine and besides," she lifted her sister up and spun her around, "I have no intentions of leaving you behind to deal with our mother. She would have you married off in a heartbeat."

Euphie giggled and twirled, her dress flaring out by her side. "All the big bad suitors will have to fight you off."

"Yes, It will take a brave man to face the end of my blade."

Laughing, she reached out to examine Cornelia's ornate hilt. "Will you teach me?"

Cornelia fell silent and smiled fondly down at her young sister. She couldn't deny her dear sister anything, but Euphie's relationship with their mother was nowhere as tenuous as Cornelia's. Empress Victoria was a staunch traditionalist and despised Cornelia for charting her own path in the military. To her it was unseemly and unrefined, the exact opposite of what a noble lady was supposed to be. 

Cornelia had always dreamed of knights and the glory of battle, not of damsels in distress. And Empress Marianne... she had reinforced that dream. She had been first in many achievements from piloting a knightmare to becoming a female knight. Without her, Cornelia wondered if she would have succumbed to social pressure.

Turning her gaze back to Euphie, she replied, "Once you have a reason Euphie. Try to enjoy your time with Mother for now."

Euphie pouted. "But I want to be like you!"

Little siblings were adorable. "I'd rather you be Euphie. Do whatever  _ you  _ want to."

Euphie opened her mouth to reply, then froze, turning around and curtsied. "Your Highness."

Stunned, Cornelia turned around and saw Empress Marianne in a royal blue dress sitting in her wheelchair, refined as ever. Despite no longer standing tall, she still commanded a regal and deadly presence. Behind her, the Knight of One, Bismark Waldstein towered. Instinctively, Cornelia dropped to her knees, uncaring for the skirt sweeping the grass, and bowed her head.. Her heart hammered within her chest and eagerness rushed through her. Her lady had returned. Perhaps Cornelia's failure could finally be absolved. "Your Highness, please forgive me."

Lady Marianne's light laughter danced off the walls and she rolled forward. "Cornelia, Euphie. Please. No need for such formalities."

Cornelia rose unsteadily. Did that mean she was forgiven? Had Cornelia proven herself after failing in her honored duty to protect Lady Marianne? It felt... too easy. Keeping her head bowed respectfully, her eyes observed her lady, noticing the slight signs of weariness and fatigue, and her mother drilling holes into Lady Marianne's back. Of course. Despite knowing that Lady Marianne held the Emperor's favor, her mother continued to be pointlessly antagonistic. Cornelia's eyes narrowed at the woman.

Her mother sniffed. "My daughters, shall we convene for tea and biscuits? Or will your business be concluded momentarily?"

Cornelia scowled at her mother who simply raised an eyebrow in return. 

Lady Marianne shook her head. "No need Victoria," her mother grimaced, but Lady Marianne continued on, "my business is rather brief and Charles is expecting me this evening. If I could have a moment alone with Cornelia, that would be much appreciated. It is her business after all."

Gleefully, Cornelia turned her back to her mother and bowed her head to Lady Marianne. "How may I serve you?"

Rolling up to her, Lady Marianne cast a quick glance at Euphie, "How are you my dear? I'm afraid I have some urgent business to discuss with your sister."

Cornelia's back straightened. Urgent. Was she being called back into service? Did Lady Marianne have need for her skills once more?

Euphie stared at her shoes and swayed side to side. "I'm fine. How's Nunnally? And Lelouch? I miss them."

Resting a hand on Euphie's shoulder, Marianne replied softly, "I'm glad. They're fine and I'm sure they miss you too. They're a little busy at the moment, but if you have a letter or something you want to send them, I can pass it along."

Euphie's face lit up and her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes Euphie." Marianne smiled softly. "Why don't you run along dear?"

Cornelia watched her sister depart and her mother follow behind, her nose still stuck in the air. The gentle calm smile slipped off Marianne's face and Sir Waldstein wandered to the door, ensuring there would be no interruptions. This was not a social visit.

Empress Marianne, shifting into her authoritative voice that left no room for questions, ordered, "You are requested to present yourself tomorrow at the HEA Carlton and be ready for long term deployment."

War. The Empire was finally done playing to the E.U’s tune. Cornelia's hands clenched. She was ready. "Thank you, your highness. I will make you proud."

That was a promise. Lady Marianne only came because of her duty; Cornelia wasn't forgiven yet. She had to prove herself worthy. The enemy would learn to cower before Cornelia's name, just like they did for Empress Marianne. Cornelia snapped to attention and saluted.

Lady Marianne nodded. "I'm sure you will," a quirk of her lips, "Brigadier Cornelia."

A promotion. A significant one. Cornelia snapped her mouth shut as her cheeks heated up.

"You did exceptional work in Area 11. Unfortunately, Jeremiah Gottwald has tendered his resignation from military duty given his father's death. Is there anyone you would trust to protect you on the battlefield? Royalty of all kinds will be a prime target," Lady Marianne finished, her eyes glancing at Sir Waldstein.

Cornelia pursed her lips as she considered those that served beneath her. Jeremiah had always been loyal and fierce. It was a shame to lose his service and she knew that others would be less than pleased about her rank. "Sir Guilford. He has proven himself.... You're not asking me to pick a Knight of Honor?"

"Considering that I failed to have done that as well, no." Lady Marianne relaxed and snorted slightly. "I do hope that if you ever pick one, that you'll show them proper decorum unlike your youth."

Her cheeks burned. "It wasn't like that!"

Questioningly, Lady Marianne teased, "No? You didn't collude with your brothers?"

Cornelia had known it to be a terrible idea at the time, but she had let Schneizel talk her into it. Never again. "It was Schneizel's fault."

Lady Marianne threw back her head and laughed. "I believe Odysseus said the same thing at the time. Just so you know, your father and I found it to be absolutely adorable. We never imagined that you would be so invested in our relationship."

Looking down, she mumbled, "I don't want to talk about it."

Looking at her watch, Lady Marianne said, "It seems I must go. If you bring Euphie's letter along tomorrow, I can make sure that Lelouch and Nunnally will receive it. Good luck Brigadier Cornelia."

Cornelia watched Lady Marianne wheel away, followed by the sharp strikes of Bismarck's boots as he shadowed her. War had been expected, awaited, the only surprise, was when. The invasion of the Philippines was about to commence. It would be glorious and swift. Her eyes flickered to her sword. Yes. She would prove herself once again in the eyes of Lady Marianne and the rest of the Britannian military. A War of Conquest. There would be much honor to find... and, her eyes drifted to a small pink rose, it would grant her the prestige to protect her sister without using her mother's influence. 

The smile slid away. Euphie. Cornelia had promised to stay... but now she was leaving. Somehow, she would have to make it up to her. Intent on apologizing, she walked inside, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. Euphie would be disappointed, but this was necessary. Brigadier... Slowly, and surely, she was reaching her dream. Like Empress Marianne, she too, would lead troops to victory. The Empire's blade. Or maybe she and Lady Marianne would be the dual blades of the Empire. There was a nice ring to that: Princes Cornelia of the Dual Blades.

Standing rigidly by the opulent staircase cared from artisan marble, her mother scowled. "Off to war? At least Euphie still has a chance to be a real lady."

"Do you have to be so confrontational all the time, Mother? I'm sure that Empress Marianne notices and she does have the Emperor's ear. Even you must admit that."

"A commoner wench," dismissed her mother casually, "you would do well not to align yourself with such deplorable elements. I should have never consented to Euphie associating with her children, even if they're half-royal."

Narrowing her eyes, Cornelia hissed, "Lelouch acts more befitting of royalty than yourself. I will align myself with whoever I wish and you will not sway my decision. You would rather endorse incompetency, than admit a fault."

"If you must gallivant off in the army, I can at least ensure that Euphemia prospers outside of your influences."

Cornelia took a step forward and glared. "You will not marry off my sister to satisfy your own ambitions. Just because you failed to curry favor with the Emperor, does not mean that you can sell Euphie to increase your standing."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "It's hardly selling Cornelia. It's called duty, something of which you seem to fail to understand. Do you think I argued with your grandfather when he told me to woo one of the contenders for the Imperial throne."

"And your silence has brought you what? A lavish home where you waste away accomplishing nothing of worth?" Cornelia shot back. "Your marriage tore your family apart! There is no one left but us, and you would repeat the mistakes of the past. Your father married your cousin to Emperor Brandon... and then, you, to Prince Charles. Instead of securing our family's safety, it tore us apart. The first memory I have is of the maid attempting to whisk me away. Your cousin hired her, didn't she?"

Her mother looked down at the ground, her shoulders dropping. "Yes, she did. And I know, the Emperor cares for none of his wives. We were all just tools to the throne and we foolishly thought he would elevate us in return as tradition demands. Instead... we are left at the wayside as he dotes on  _ beautiful _ Marianne. Even confined to a wheelchair, she doesn't lose his favor. Why do you think I had Euphemia? It wasn't your desperate pleading for a younger sister. It was my last gambit to gain favor as he continued to court other women."

Her mother had never said anything and Cornelia felt her chest tighten. Softly, she replied, "That may be, but leave Euphie out of it. She will make her own decisions on how to govern her life. Shackling her will crush her."

Her mother grimaced. "And without the protection of marriage that you casually shrug off, we will die when the Emperor's heart finally succumbs to old age and bacon grease. His successor will have no use for the old Emperor's wives, especially myself as I'm no longer in my prime. Since my family spent all our political capital in the Emblem of Blood, there is nothing left to bargain with. We'll be worse off than paupers. Think about that as you dally around with personal ambitions."

A sharp gasp interrupted them and Euphie hurtled down the stairs, slamming into Cornelia and clinging desperately to her skirt. "Sister, you're not leaving? You promised!"

Cornelia knelt. "I'm sorry Euphie, but duty," she shot a sharp look at her mother, "calls. I'll be back before you know it, and you know what? I think I can arrange for you to attend the Imperial Academy. You'll be able to make many friends."

"Really? I'd love that" Euphie looked up, nibbling on her lip and then glanced around the room. "That's what Lady Marianne wanted to talk to you about: war. She left already, didn't she" frowning, Euphie pulled out a thick envelope, "I wanted to give this to her for Lelouch and Nunnally. I tried to be quick"

Cornelia ran her finger along the fine stationery. "Don't worry Euphie. Lady Marianne was really sorry to miss you and told me that if I bring it along tomorrow, she'll make sure they get it."

"Honest?" Euphie asked, beaming.

"Yes," Cornelia clasped Euphie's fingers around the envelope. "Why don't you take your time, and I'll pick it up before I head out tomorrow morning. Go on."

Nodding quickly, Euphie twirled around and shouted, "Thank you!" before half stumbling up the stairs as she dashed off. 

Pursing her lips, her mother gestured up the stairs. "You cannot promise that."

"You'll find that I can," Cornelia raised her chin, "I'm an asset to the Empire and I've been promoted for my service. That affords me the privilege of asking for a favor. Unlike you, I have proven myself of continued use. So has Empress Marianne, which is why she continues to curry favor from the Emperor, while you've fallen out of relevance."

Brushing past her mother, Cornelia strode up the stairs. Her mother remained silent and Cornelia couldn't help the swell of victory in her chest. At last, she had the last word against her mother. It had to mean something... instead it felt hollow. Her mother was a shell of a being, despite her overbearing presence in every aspect of Cornelia's life. A victory against an opponent who had given up years ago, was no victory after all. 

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally's finger stopped skimming, resting on a frayed punched hole as she tried to understand what her brother had said. Gliding her finger back, she reread, and no, it was the same. Lelouch wasn't safe as he had claimed, but deployed in Area Two. More irritatingly, if it hadn't been for his need of a favor, he would have let her continue to believe that he was safe. 

Concerned, Allie asked, "Nunnally? You're glowering. Did something happen?"

"Lelouch lied to me," she huffed. "He told me last week that everything was fine!"

Allie chuckled nervously. "You didn't tell Lelouch about Sally because you didn't want to worry him."

"It's not the same," Nunnally groaned and then slumped, her forehead hitting the cool wood. "It's the same, isn't it? Why? I lied, he lied, all because we don't want to worry each other... Now, I'll never know if I have to actually be worried."

The table shuddered slightly as Allie said, "Maybe you want to tell your brother that. But he's halfway around the world. You can't really help him, nor can he help you. Maybe it's for the best?"

Nunnally shoved the letter to Allie. "He's in combat! He could die! But noooo, all he was talking about how much he hated his drill exercises. I just," she massaged her temple, "I want to know, I have to know... I can't lose Lelouch."

Allie quieted. "Oh, that's quite different. Is he okay?"

Clenching her fists, she sighed. "Well, obviously I don't know because he keeps lying!"

"Maybe he told the truth this time? Like, I'm sure he didn't want to tell you, but he did, so maybe he feels guilty."

Nunnally huffed. "No. Apparently some friends of his have mail trouble, so he needs me to send their letters."

"Oh," Allie trailed off, clearly unsure on how to respond to that.

Sliding her hand along the table, Nunnally found the errant paper again and she trailed her finger along, looking for her spot. Perhaps she was overreacting? Or had misread? The words did not change. Her brother was in a warzone... and had lied to her about it.

The door banged open and Milly flounced inside, trailed by three other pairs of footsteps. "Hello Allie! Hello Nunnally! Ah, you haven't met Nina Einstein yet. She's the new treasurer. Nina, don't be shy! Say hi to Nunnally!"

A shy voice squeaked, "Hi."

"Hmm," Milly noticed, "you're rather dour today. Everything alright with you two? Having trouble filling out your middle school student council?"

"Don't remind me," bemoaned Allie, "but no, regardless of our trouble in finding qualified candidates, because we don't just grab random people, Nunnally has a letter from her brother."

Nunnally set the letter down again, trying to remember how far down the page she was, because it seemed she wouldn't have the peace and quiet to finish the letter. Crossing her arms, she hissed, "Lelouch is deployed in a combat position in Area Two... And has been for a while now too. He lied."

Milly hissed and a loud thud cut through the room. The table trembled beneath the sudden onslaught of weight as the president yelled, "Lelouch is what! But he's..."

Nunnally grimaced in sympathy, knowing that Milly had nearly brought up his status as a prince. It did bring up a good question. How had Lelouch even gained such an assignment? Surely her mother was displeased with this development as well and should have had enough influence to prevent it. "I don't know how it happened, Milly."

Rivalz consoled, "I'm sorry Nunnally. I'm sure your brother will be fine. Empress Marianne took care of most of the terrorists, otherwise we wouldn't be establishing Area Twelve."

Horrified, Shirley cut in, "Don't be so crass Rivalz. And it's not fine. Everyone just forgot about Area Two because of the invasion. They still have curfews and my uncle is really worried. I really hope your brother won't get caught up in the skirmishes. If you need anything, I'm here."

Nunnally smiled sadly at Shirley. "He's already caught up in it. Although he calls them 'minor alterations' and 'civilian disputes' and such. He's still trying to make sure I don't worry..." she paused as the pieces slid into place, "which means it isn't minor! And I should worry."

Milly paced the room. "Lelouch tends to understate things all the time. Or obscure the truth. I don't understand why he can't trust people!

“It's not that hard. The world isn't out to get him."

"Wait," Allie cut in, "how do you know Lelouch?"

Nunnally froze as she listened to Milly stutter her reply, "Lelouch he... he did... he did accounting for my grandfather! And then, sometimes.... sometimes, they had to meet... and.... and I would.... I would see him and we talked?"

For someone who thrived on chaos, Milly was terribly unconvincing. Nunnally heard her heart pound as she waited for someone to call her out on the fib and their newfound identity and life, to fall down like a house of cards. Milly stopped pacing and Nunnally could hear her shuddering breath and her foot tapping the ground.

Finally, Allie replied, "Right. He did do that, but I doubt that would have left such an... impression. But keep your secrets. Nunnally, are you going to send the letters for Lelouch's friends?"

Nibbling on her lip, she considered it and nodded. "Yes. Lelouch wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important... and at least they're less likely to lie since he transcribed them all in braille for some reason." She shook her head in exasperation as she grabbed the additional letters. "I don't know what the point is, but Lelouch never asks for help... so, I will."

Shirley chimed in, "We could help you? It would be really cool to learn braille and then it would be like we have a secret student council member language... But you better chew him out for lying to you. That's not okay."

"I know!" Milly continued, "We'll write him a letter from the entire student council! And we can include pictures and stuff and we'll make him feel super guilty."

"Yes!" Shirley jumped up, "And then he'll never do that to Nunnally again."

Rivalz asked, "Does Lelouch like anything in particular? We could send him a care package. It might not be much, but anything can help, right?"

Nunnally's face heated up at the overwhelming excitement of her friends. "I'm not sure he'll stop lying... but it can’t hurt to try. And we can't send food or so Rivalz. It will be confiscated."

Rivalz, undeterred, pulled out a chair beside her and his pen skidded, as he began to jot things down. "I'll just beg my parents for a favor. Your brother will receive everything!"

"And grandfather can surely pull some strings as well," Milly added as she skipped over to Rivalz's spot. "We should include chocolate! And maybe some fruit, like oranges or bananas."

The new student council member, Nina, who had previously been silent, suggested quietly, "I don't really know you Nunnally, or your brother... but maybe we can send him some first aid supplies?"

Nunnally sent an encouraging smile in the girl's direction. "Thank you. That's a good idea."

As the other members of the student council clamored at the opposite end of the table, discussing potential things to send in a care package, Nunnally walked to the corner of the room where the braille typewriter was set up. There were three important letters she had to write. One to chastise Lelouch and plead with him to tell her the truth. But, that was probably a losing battle. Therefore, she would write another letter. Nunnally had her own questions for her mother and at least she might tell Nunnally the truth concerning how Lelouch had ended up in combat. Lastly, she had to compose a reply to Euphie who had sent a letter out of the blue. She secured the paper in the typewriter.

"Are you writing to Lelouch?" Allie asked, walking up behind her.

Nunnally shook her head. "No. My mother. She knew and didn't tell me."

"Your family has serious communication issues... Do you mind if I tell Gwen? She's going to freak out."

"You know what?" Nunnally decided, "Go ahead. If everyone calls him out, then maybe Lelouch will finally understand. Maybe..." And even if he didn't, Nunnally could console herself imagining his reactions to receiving an avalanche of letters. He was going to be so mad at her for telling everyone, but he deserved it. 

"Nunnally," Allie whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder, "you know that you can trust me? I know that the truth can hurt, but I can handle it. I won't be mad or anything. You're my best friend... please."

Nunnally's heart yearned to spill the secrets she closely guarded. Allie was her best friend and had even conceded that Milly might not be that bad for a noble. All she had to say was the truth and the invisible wall between them would shatter and Nunnally would finally be able to relax. Just four simple words would explain everything: I’m Nunnally vi Britannia.

Instead, "Milly is just embarrassed, Allie. I don't know what happened exactly, but Lelouch got one over her."

A palpable feeling of disappointment reinforced the wall and Allie whispered, "Of course..."

* * *

**Royal Palace, New Pendragon**

Charles stood up, scattering the various paperwork across the desk, and walked to the window, his eyes scanning the countryside thirsting for the early Fall showers. At last, he had signed the bill to prevent Duels of Honors and the sweeping redistribution of titles, as nobility challenged each other to knightmare combat. It should have been an easy sell to the nobles on the land, but for some unfathomable reason, Margrave Oberstein had rallied the traditionalists with Margrave Greenford to defend the Duels of Honor. It should have been easy, but all the traditionalists could see was the loss of a political tool, not the wave of unrest rippling through the Empire. 

Due to the idiotic posturing of the nobility, Charles had to wait to pass the new law until it could be swept beneath the excitement of a new War of Conquest. Utterly ridiculous. Charles shook his head and returned to his desk to finally use his computer, because at least Lord Ashford understood the benefit of digital communications. Or perhaps the other lords sent their missives by paper to ensure that Charles couldn't deal with them in a timely manner.

Massaging his temples, he scanned Lord Ashford's email and the copious number of attachments. It had been Marianne's idea to request Lord Ashford to use his party to investigate the attending nobles. Unfortunately, it seemed they had learned nothing new although Charles would need to set one of his unspeakables to sift through the vast amount of collected information and make sure Lord Ashford hadn't missed anything, and barring that, obtain blackmail material on some rather irritating nobles. Charles's eyes twitched as he read through Lord Ashford's musings on who was behind the attempted assassination on Lelouch.

Nothing he didn't already know. Marianne would not be pleased. Things would be so much easier if he could use the OSI and geass agents, but he hadn't been able to rule out V.V. as the perpetrator.

A sharp knock on the door and Charles suspended the computer. "You may enter."

"Your majesty, apologies for disturbing you." Schneizel bowed deeply and waited at the edge of the room for permission to be seated.

Charles raised his eyebrows. Schneizel was only formal when he wanted something. "Spit it out."

A half grimace flitted across his son's face, before he decided to abandon propriety and walk forward. "You need to stop Odysseus."

That... was unexpected. Schneizel and Odysseus rarely involved him in their affairs, preferring to resolve their differences in private, away from prying eyes and ears. "And what should I be stopping?"

"He's making a mess of things," Schneizel complained, looking uncharacteristically aggravated."He insists on cracking down on the military for hiring underage children. The military will not accept this, but he won't listen to logical reason, and is going to ruin... himself by following his bleeding heart."

"A child cannot legally sign a contract under the age of fourteen. If Odysseus has finally decided to involve himself with enforcing justice in the Empire, I see no reason to stop him. The damage he can do is minimal and it should be good practice," Charles calmly replied although, internally, he made a note to keep an eye on his eldest son. Odysseus finally showing a shred of ambition was advantageous, but not if he the military actually mutinied in protest.

Schneizel crossed his arms. "Because he's your heir?"

Charles was not blind to the tacit agreement between his two eldest sons, but this was the first time Schneizel had ever raised the issue. "Odysseus is my first born, thus he is my heir. I will of course encourage his attempts to step into the limelight and prove himself."

Taking a small step forward, Schneizel glowered. "As the Emperor, you decide on the order of succession. You choose to keep Odysseus as the Crown Prince and make him a public target. Nobody would blink an eye if you changed the order of succession. They're expecting the order to change. Instead you keep Odysseus as a target, a role which will lead to his death, because my brother is utterly unprepared for such a task."

"I think you underestimate your brother," Charles said as he began to tidy his desk. "He would love for the world to forget about him and sink into obscurity. And yes, I know he will abdicate, but that puts him in a position of favor, instead of a target. Everyone either vies for my favor or Odysseus’, depending on who they think will kick the bucket first. And since I have barely meddled with the order of succession, the assumption is that I will allow succession to fall to Guinevere if something happens to Odysseus, despite her... temperament being unsuited to the throne."

Schneizel's face soured. "She would drain the coffers within a month."

"You're hardly the first to have come to such a conclusion and therefore take a vested interest in ensuring that she never becomes the Crown Princess. The current state of affairs keeps Odysseus safe," Charles continued dryly, "although it warms my heart that you show such concern over your brother's well being."

The entire mess could have been avoided had Odysseus proved himself to be moderately skilled at something of actual worth. Of course Odysseus took great care to never actually appear as a legitimate contender to the throne, and thus, even if Odysseus had some talent, Charles wouldn't know. It did help, Charles admitted to himself, that he was rather fond of his first born. Irritatingly, he could never pin down exactly why he held a soft spot for his son, but it existed.

"Who would you prefer to take the throne?" Schneizel challenged.

Charles smirked and replied with what he knew would infuriate his son, "It hardly concerns me. I'll be dead by then. You may squabble over the pieces as you wish."

"Another Emblem of Blood? So we can repeat the mistakes of the past? Do you care so little for the rest of us that you would throw the lives of your children, your grandchildren, and your wives to the wind? "

It must infuriate his son to think that Charles would leave something that monumental to chance. It put Schneizel's own plans in jeopardy and while the cold anger of his youth was no longer to be found, Charles could still spot the burning need to be in control despite all of his son's masks. Of course what Schneizel failed to realize was that Charles didn't intend for his legacy to be a wake of destruction and therefore had contingencies in effect should he die before executing Ragnarok. The world would know peace. The lies would end.

But the game had to be played and Schneizel's inability to see the human element, made him easy to manipulate as Odysseus, who suffered from the opposite flaw. "Dead men can hardly care, Schneizel. If it really concerns you that much, go reign in your brother on your own so he doesn't shake the status quo."

Although.... Considering Odysseus's intent to crack down on the abuse of young children, it could give Charles another angle to tackle Lelouch's attempted assassin. After all, Odysseus was most likely not the culprit. 

Before Schneizel could reply, Charles continued, "Perhaps you should steer your brother to consider all children. It will prevent him from focusing on the military entirely and give you the time to smooth tensions that will arise between him and the military. Force him to look at the practical aspects, because while he may wish to void every contract signed by a minor, the majority are no longer minors and may have built successful lives in the military. Odysseus will hardly wish to punish the children who were taken advantage of."

Schneizel tilted his head as he considered the offer and the cool mask of politeness slipped back onto his face. With no trace of his previous aggravation, Schneizel said, "Thank you... father. I will take your plan under advisement. It might solve my dilemma with Odysseus. May I be dismissed?"

"Of course Schniezel, and good luck," Charles replied. 

The door shut and the edges of his mouth quirked upwards. It was a simple distraction that would keep both of his sons occupied and, as a bonus, would ensure the military remained under control. Hopefully, Odysseus's love for humanitarian projects combined with stumbling upon a rather pervasive issue, if he understood Marianne correctly, would incite some passion within his son. In which case, the resulting chaos would provide enough cover to hide Charles's own investigations.

Feeling pleased, he dialed Marianne's number and pulled out the reports regarding Lelouch.

After a few rings, Marianne finally answered, "Charles, you do know it's five in the morning here? I have inspections to carry out and a battle to prepare for."

Time zone differences were incredibly annoying. "Sorry Marianne. I unfortunately have meetings arranged for the rest of the afternoon. Lord Ashford's report came back."

"Did he find anything?" Marianne asked, suddenly attentive.

"He sent the footage and audio files. I'll be having my own agents comb through them, but Lord Ashford says he didn't find anything himself," Charles paused as he scanned the email again, "he did state his intention to investigate Earl Seymour, but doesn't believe there is a connection between the man and Lelouch."

"So nothing?" Marianne sighed. "It was a long shot, but I trust Reuben. If he thinks there is something to investigate, there probably is."

Charles snorted. Lord Ashford would have happily remained neutral though the entire Emblem of Blood if it weren't for Marianne gaining his attention. And even then, Lord Ashford would have happily remained holed up in his lab and ignored the Empire's concern. In fact, that was what the man had done.

"He is trustworthy," chided Marianne.

"To you perhaps, but not the Empire. I would trust Margrave Greenford to act in the interest of the Empire over him, even if he is currently trying to court Guinevere through his nephew. Lord Ashford cares for one thing only: his research."

"He does get rather passionate about his research," Marianne conceded, "but he's hardly going to betray the Empire over it."

"Do you know how much foreign art that man has bought?"

"That hardly proves anything. I happen to love French films, but you're not accusing me of being a French agent."

Massaging his nose, Charles replied, "I'm not accusing him of being a foreign agent... just not being devoted to the Empire. If Lord Ashford is loyal to anyone, it is you Marianne. Not me."

"I owe him quite a bit Charles. I know I pushed him into politics and if it weren't for that, he wouldn't be investigating other lords or holding sting operations for us. Just try to make sure he doesn't get over his head," Marianne pleaded.

"I can provide Lord Ashford with a guard if that would help," Charles offered, neglecting to mention that such a gift would allow Charles to keep a better eye on the man as well.

"That would be helpful. Reuben is having trouble finding people he can trust, so if they can help as well it would go a long way. And a second pair of eyes on Ashford Academy wouldn't be remiss. Any news regarding you know? He's being terribly unforthcoming in his letters. The OSI agent is being entirely factual on the other hand, which barely tells me anything."

Glancing at the letter on his desk, Charles grimaced. "Lelouch is still healthy, although my agent's reports are a bit baffling. He's asking if Lelouch is another operative, for some reason."

"Great," Marianne huffed, "he apparently has the bearings of one of your unspeakables."

"I would tell them the truth, but while they have strict orders to protect his life, the more people who know Lelouch's identity, the more likely it is to slip. It's probably some of his mannerisms or so. Regardless, Lelouch has been in combat a few times, but their squadron has mostly escaped combat unscathed outside of the first time. You probably have your OSI agent to thank for that."

"I already knew that," Marianne complained and muffled shouting could be heard on the other end, "I need to go soon. Tell me how he is doing personally. Surely your agent knows something."

"The panic attacks haven't occurred again—"

"Panic attacks?" Marianne stressed, "What panic attacks? He never had panic attacks."

Charles frowned as he flipped the report to the relevant page. "My agent speculates they're due to having been forced to kill two attackers.... so the assassin... There was only one assassin."

Marianne swore. "I should have listened to Reuben more. It could have been Japan, most likely was.... What if he believes the boy is dead... and he's blaming himself? I should have done something. He's a child… Why did he have to befriend a stupid number!"

Listening to Marianne worry, Charles finished the rest of the report. "He seems to be doing well all things considered and has been acquiring better equipment from his squadron through the black market. Apparently, he is also running an underground operation to smuggle letters out to raise the necessary funds. That's... worrisome."

"It's hardly surprising Charles. At least if the letters are going through him, he knows what is in them and the OSI... damn it York. I told him to stop trying to recruit him. You could try to send them an allowance under Mary, like you do for the rest of your children, but just a small amount. No need to be decadent and raise suspicion."

Charles rubbed his forehead. "Yes, Guinevere's allowance is rather excessive, yet she still ends up begging me for more at the end of every month. Clovis blew through his too. I'll send something to Nunnally, she will probably be more reasonable about accepting it, considering Lelouch quite frequently states, in public, that he doesn't care for his parents." The brat.

Marianne sighed. "Well I knew that already. He's quite explicit in his letters regarding that. But speaking of her, I don't have time to find an appropriate birthday present and—"

Before Marianne could continue, Charles cut across, "No."

"But,"

"Absolutely not."

"Please?"

"I don't even know what she likes!"

"It isn't that hard Charles. Put some effort into it, or ask one of your agents what a child likes. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to receive anything, she isn't Guinevere."

Glaring at the phone, he hissed, "Fine. I'll get Nunnally a birthday present. At least she knows how to be polite."

* * *

**Stadtfeld Manor, Area 11**

Reuben approached the homely building, surrounded by a lavish garden slowly as he drank in the sight. The architecture, while Britannian in nature, had a distinct foreign edge and he gazed at the cherry blossoms lining the wall in appreciation. It had obviously been built before the invasion and Baron Stadtfeld must have moved in afterwards. Distantly, he remembered the shipping tycoon dealt with foreign trade, and perhaps had built the house for when he had business in Japan. Reuben nodded appreciatively. Even if the meeting turned out to be a complete waste of time, he could appreciate the man's taste and acknowledge the man's fortitude for not tearing down the building after the invasion for a house in a more appropriate style of architecture.

Stopping before the door, Reuben let his new... assistant, Thomas, scurry past him and knock on the door. Thomas stood rigidly and Reuben knew the man would protect him with his life, if the meeting was actually an underhanded assassination attempt. Of course, Thomas had little freedom in that and his almost fervent loyalty unnerved Reuben. But Marianne had insisted, so here he was, with another so called gift that he didn't want: an unspeakable. Reuben didn't condone the practice, but he knew better to reject such a  _ generous  _ gift from the Emperor, who was also probably being used to spy on him. Reuben detested gifts.

A young maid opened the door, her eyes focused on the ground and Thomas took a step forward to announce Reuben. Surprisingly, despite the name, unspeakables actually did talk. Reuben had felt distinctly paranoid after that realization, because anyone could be a spy.

The maid, still not looking up, led them through the foyer and into the drawing room. She then took their coats, while another maid brought in a tray of steaming tea and a plate of biscuits. Reuben stretched forward to serve himself, when Thomas, subtly intercepted, and broke one in half and tried it gingerly. Resisting the urge to pinch his nose, Reuben leaned back. It was highly unlikely he was going to be poisoned, but if it eased Thomas's burden, then he would abstain from the tantalizing sweets.

A well dressed man in an immaculate suit with a wide bulky build and shrewd blue eyes, entered the room and offered his hand to Reuben. "Baron Stadtfeld. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Margrave Ashford. I hope our business will be concluded to your satisfaction."

Reuben rose, graciously accepting the handshake. "Of course Lord Stadtfeld. Your request to a meeting was intriguing."

Lord Stadtfeld relaxed and sat down, "Of course sir. You are a busy man I understand, so I will attempt to be brief. I understand that you have some trade issues due to an informal boycott of your goods by other lords. For the right price, of course, I'm willing to help ease this burden. I have numerous contacts in Britannia and around the world who would happily buy through me."

Observing the lord, Reuben considered the offer. It was true that Reuben's land had suffered economically due to the manipulations of other lords. Tax revenue had fallen short of expected figures although the royalties from knightmare production left Reuben with more liquid capital than he was used to. For his own constituents, a trade relationship would be incredibly fruitful and ease their burden. But such a relationship, wouldn't come without a hefty price for Lord Stadtfeld risked having his own business boycotted by associating with Reuben.

"And the price for such a generous arrangement?"

Lord Stadtfeld tugged on his sleeves and straightened his shirt. "I would be undertaking quite a bit of risk and as such I feel like I should have my own security. An exclusive arrangement would suit me quite well?"

No request for an upfront fee or other compensation such as through marriage. The man was too desperate for a deal that Reuben would be a fool to turn down. After all, Lord Stadtfeld was right; he would substantially improve the economy in Reuben's holdings and the stability of such an arrangement, would ensure that his lands would prosper. No. There was a hidden cost that he wasn't seeing. 

Glancing at the man's fidgeting hands, Reuben prodded, "It is a generous offer, but I hesitate to tie my lands to one man's fortune. The other noble's minds will surely be swayed in time and it is just a temporary setback, offset by the knightmare production, which will only improve as time passes."

Lord Stadtfeld grimaced briefly, but was quickly replaced by a genial smile. "I'm sure we can work something out Lord Ashford. If you do not trust me, surely there is something that would prove my sincerity."

The truth would help. Reuben allowed none of his suspicion to show as he evaluated the desperate man. He had to appear hesitant to accept the offer, but not too much, so Lord Stadtfeld would continue to attempt to negotiate. The limit of their negotiations would determine the degree of the man's desperation and if he truly needed Reuben or any sorry high ranking lord. 

"I only do business with those I trust. It is good for my health."

Lord Stadtfeld glanced to the door and quietly, he continued, "I'm of course willing to tie my fortune to yours. If you wish, you could foster my daughter? Or perhaps a closer position should your granddaughter be willing."

The side door flew open and a young man, with rusty red hair stormed forward, yelling, "Otosan! You're not bargaining Kallen off!"

Reuben raised his arm to prevent Thomas from interfering, as he observed the blood drain from Lord Stadtfeld's face and his efforts to try and shoo the young man from the room. A son... A Japanese son.

"You are disturbing the honorable Margrave Ashford! I will have you fired for this!"

Lifting his arm, Reuben decided to end the charade and ordered, "Both of you sit down. Thomas?"

Thomas walked forward threateningly and the boy's eyes widened and he stumbled back into the couch, his face as pale as his father's, as he realized his mistake. Lord Stadtfeld looked around hopelessly, before sitting down, slumping. 

"Please," Lord Stadtfeld began.

Reuben cut him off, "No need. That is your son," smiling at the boy, "I'm afraid we haven't had proper introductions. Margrave Ashford. And you?"

Puffing his chest, the boy replied defiantly, "Naoto.... Kozuki." 

Lord Stadtfeld's hands clenched, but any words died on his lips as Reuben sent him a look.

"I see, and am I right to assume that your mother is Japanese? Or rather is an Eleven?"

"Japanese," Naoto hissed.

"You sister as well?"

Naoto fell silent and glanced at his father desperately. 

Lord Stadtfeld straightened, held himself rigid and stared directly into Reuben's eyes. "Naoto is not part of our negotiations. My marriage occurred years before the invasion, and thus was legal. I will protect my children, despite their half-Number status, even if that means facing you, Margrave Ashford."

"You were seeking a trade deal to ensure an income stream when the scandal broke. I would be unable to turn you away due to contractual obligations and you would be able to weather the storm. As I would be tied to your prosperity as well, you hoped that if the scandal did break, I would use my substantial influence, to protect my business interests, and by extension, your family."

Lord Stadtfeld's jaw dropped slightly, but he composed himself to answer, "Yes. That was the plan."

"Why didn't you just claim your children as bastards? Considering you were willing to hand over your daughter as a hostage to me, she must look more Britannian than your son. Why even take that risk? You don't know me. For all you know, I would have taken revenge on your deception by abusing your daughter."

Grimacing, Lord Stadtfeld defended, "I've heard that you are a good man, one not prone to violence. My foreign partners speak of you well and your willingness to do business implies you're less... hostile to non-Britannians."

Reuben loathed politics, but it was all too apparent that Lord Stadtfeld had no understanding of the higher noble court. He breathed business and judging from the success of Stadtfeld Shipping, possessed a shrewd mind or had the wisdom to listen to those smarter than him. Those skills would pay no dividends in court, where a contract was just a flimsy piece of paper. 

"You have no idea how lucky you are," Reuben settled on, "Before you attempt to try and swindle another noble, know they all protect their interests vehemently, with blood if need be. Yes, I consider myself a good man, but you didn't even consider how I managed to keep the knightmare under wraps for over a decade. It was not by being kind."

Lord Stadtfeld gulped.

"Fortunately for you, I'm not in the habit of employing assassins," although Thomas was probably trained as one and Reuben purposefully locked that thought away, "nor am I sadist. Why don't we invite the rest of your family before we discuss this further?"

Wary, Lord Stadfteld stood up. "My wife and I had previously agreed that in the event of the invasion... that Naoto would be claimed as a bastard and I would support them off on the side, but then.... It's probably best if you follow me Lord Ashford. I guess there's no point lying anymore. It won't gain me much of anything."

Raising his eyebrows, Reuben let Lord Stadtfeld lead the way, Thomas falling into step behind him. Reuben would have to be careful, for tonight's events would surely find their way to the Emperor's ears and he was much less tolerant of the Numbers than Reuben. Already, Thomas was more of a burden. The lord stopped in the middle of the hallway, and gently knocked on the wall. Reuben watched appreciatively as the fake wall swung open. Lord Stadtfeld had some intelligence after all. 

A young woman stood in the secret doorway, her eyes switching between Reuben and her husband, and clutching the toddler in arms tightly. The piece of the puzzle fell in place. A young child had scrapped the lord's previous plans. If he cared for his child, he wouldn't turn them to the street and support them privately, not when disease and violence ran rampant. There was no way to win, and such, Lord Stadtfeld had sought to play for time for his child and turned to Reuben for help.

"Who's he?" a young red haired girl asked, pointing at him rudely.

"Kallen, be polite," the mother hissed and then gave a wobbling curtsy, "nice to meet you my lord."

Noticing Lord Stadtfeld standing rigidly by and Naoto visibly restraining himself from doing something rash, Reuben spoke up, "Why don't we all sit down? And we can discuss our options."

They ended up settling in the billiards room with a new kettle of tea and a stack of freshly prepared sandwiches. More attentive now, Reuben noticed the various servants looked rather Japanese. The wife settled on the couch, fussing over the toddler who wiggled out of her grasp and tugged on Kallen's red locks, babbling contently. Naoto, for his part, refused to sit down, preferring to stand in the corner of the room, mirroring Thomas. 

Feeling an oncoming headache Reuben chose his words carefully, "Tomorrow, I will send a contract, making Stadtfeld Shipping my only client, unless, of course, your network is unable to accommodate certain deliveries. I don't foresee it being an issue, except with some of my labs that require rare materials or specialized equipment. The details can be hashed out later, but those are the broad strokes. There are no additional stipulations within the contract itself."

Naoto crossed his arms. "So Kallen isn't leaving?"

Carefully, Reuben continued, "Your younger sister is not being used as a bargaining piece and I won't separate her from her family. On the other hand, until the Honorary Britannian system is instated, your family is especially vulnerable. It might take additional time until non-military personnel can become Honorary Britannians. I assume you intend to have your staff become Honorary Britannians then? It's currently... a legal gray area since you're privately employing them."

Lord Stadtfeld relaxed slightly. "That is the hope. Quite a few of my former employees in Japan, Areal Eleven, are... stranded. I try to employ as many as I can. It's the least I can do."

Reuben nodded. Service should be rewarded and despite having no land to his name, Lord Stadtfeld understood that. Turning to Naoto, he asked, "And what did you want to do before the invasion?"

"A doctor. I was going to go to med school. But can't be a doctor anymore as a Number."

Reminded of the growing pile of requests for visas growing on his desk as hospitals and clinics begged for more personal, Reuben grasped the opportunity. "Legally, you're a Britannian although you might face heavy discrimination due to your blood status. Considering employment shortages, you can easily claim to be a bastard or such. Normally, an employer would conduct a background check and verify your status, but with an employment history, that can easily be skipped and most hospitals and clinics won't dig too far."

"I don't have an employment history, unless they're going to accept my Japanese resume."

"Congratulations," Reuben chortled, "you're hired. I need an intern and the Odysseus Medical Scholarship needs more applicants. You can join next year with me as your sponsor."

Naoto stared at him wide eyes, and finally, sat down. "That's it? Just like that?"

"Yes, although you'll need to change your last name... for obvious reasons. As for your mother, there isn't much I can do but speed up her application when the time comes. I'm afraid that she will need to remain out of sight... and as Kallen can easily pass as a full-blooded Britannian... Marriage will be necessary to allay suspicion. Nothing is illegal here of course, just a way to maintain your social standing."

"I already made the necessary arrangements. The youngest daughter of the Frankland family," he grimaced, "a woman of a rather nasty temperament, but she will remain quiet as long as I support her lavish lifestyle."

None of them looked particularly pleased at the prospect, but if they had already made arrangements, that was one less thing for Reuben to worry about. "Your wife, Mrs?"

"Miku Kozuki my lord," she replied softly.

"I'm afraid that you'll need to stay hidden for now Mrs. Kouzuki and your youngest as well. I understand that you probably wish to remain close to your family," she nodded, "and as such, I suggest you either pose as an employee of your husband, or eventually, one of my own. It will be up to you and you may change your mind when you wish. Lastly for Kallen..."

She glared at him. "I'm not working for you."

"No worries miss," Reuben raised his arms, "I was just going to suggest you attend Ashford Academy. You could interact with students your own age and—"

Kallen crossed her arms. "No. I don't want to."

Before Reuben could respond, Naoto cut in, "Kallen. You're going."

"It's a Britannian school filled with stupid Britannians."

Reuben rubbed his forehead. It was like dealing with Marianne, but instead of Numbers, it was Britannians.

Mrs. Kozuki glared at her daughter. "You're receiving an education young lady," Kallen opened her mouth to protest and her mother hissed at her in Japanese, overriding any protests.

Turning around, Kallen stared at her shoes hanging off the sofa, until a sharp order from her mother caused her to raise her head, and politely said, "I'm honored. I accept your gracious offer."

Way too similar to Marianne, Reuben decided, but he stood up slowly. "Well, it's getting late and unfortunately, I have a monstrous stack of paperwork awaiting me. Why don't you drop by tomorrow Lord Stadtfeld and we can iron out the remaining details for the contract and ensure Kallen's paperwork is in order to start school next week."

Lord Stadtfeld nodded and led him to the front door and shook his hand firmly. "Thank you Lord Ashford. We...are in your debt."

Holding his arms out, Reuben let the maid assist him with his coat. "You are lucky that I am eccentric. But my family will collect that debt in time. Until then, I wish you and your family good health.”

Lord Stadtfeld's face soured as he recognized the chain. Nothing was free in this world, even a good deed. Of course, Reuben had simply said that so Thomas, the little spy, would hear. Hopefully, it would be enough for the Emperor to overlook Reuben skirting the word of law, and most definitely, the intent behind the law, because otherwise, Reuben would have to do some very fast talking to defend himself. Marianne's favor would not be enough to protect him if he pushed too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-Continuation on language: Language is generally standardized through the government and schooling. The huge social disparity between nobles, and the lack of education for commoners I decided on in my worldbuilding, supports the formation of unique dialects, and in the extreme, a distinct language. Instead of regional dialects, you would form social dialects which is where the idea of "broken" English comes from. Mixing in Numbers and immigrants leads to the formation of a pidgin (simplified communication to bridge language gap), which can then evolve into a creole language, which is a unique language. Given the extreme social stratification in Britannia, creole languages help the lower class by being unintelligible to nobles and therefore being a secret and secure means of communication. An even more extreme version of this is cant/argot which is often associated with thieves. Here, the language is often designed to mislead listeners.  
-In canon, Milly finds out Kallen is half-Japanese because her school transcripts were finally transferred. My headcanon for this was that Kallen studied abroad immediately after the invasion of Japan, where her blood status wouldn't matter. She then returned to Japan after Area Eleven had been firmly established. I  
-There are basically three groups collecting information within the Empire. One, obviously, is the OSI with it's sub-branch of the Geass Order. They do general mass surveillance inside and outside the Empire and probably are much like the NSA. Due to the sheer breadth of the Empire, they heavily rely on automation and targeted surveillance Unfortunately, this leads to a lot of false positives, such as Lelouch's letter because it was written in braille, or to other info slipping below the net. The Emperor, therefore has his own spy network who perform only targeted tasks and handle things such as assassinations through the unspeakables. The last group, is a more informal network based on nobles spying on each other and basically selling that information to the Emperor, or another noble. Britannia's superiority complex assumes that a threat would come within the noble ranks. This pretty much means that commoners and Numbers tend to slip through the surveillance net quite easily. 
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X and SpadeAce18 on FFN for your help with this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> My longest chapter yet... I hope the more political aspects weren't too boring in this chapter. And for everyone who was asking when Kallen would show up... Congratulations, she has. What do you guys think of her father, Lord Stadtfeld? 
> 
> What are you most excited for next? 
> 
> Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj


	23. Let it Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ It is difficult to imagine a time when the Zero Division was not a common household name spoken with awe, reverence, and even fear. They are the Empire's strongest soldiers, stealthiest assassins, and smartest commanders. Every nation knows that to stand against the Zero Division is to taste crushing defeat. It is within this swirl of admiration and fear, that most forget the Zero Division's roots. It is easy to assume that the Emperor collected the best of the best to found this division, yet it is not so. The Zero Division was not made of the best of the best or even the best of the mediocre, but rather the one's Britannia wished to have forgotten. _

_ Before they were the Zero Division, they were the 712th: a collection of undesirables, from the disgraced nobles to the Numbers. Just like the Zero Division, they were sent on impossible missions. Unlike the Zero Division, they died as expected. Perhaps it is through that hostile environment, those who survived became the best of the best. Yet by assuming that the Zero Division rose because of exceptional men with great skills, we draw from our own superstitions regarding what the Zero Division is now. Back then, the 712th was a collection of nobodies and even the best of the best or demons of supernatural powers would have remained nobodies. _

_ There are few things concretely known about the 712th. Unlike other portions of Britannian history, this is not because of a mountain of red tape, but rather because of the nature of the 712th. Personal accounts of soldiers from within the 712th are readily available. They describe a hellish environment of death, disease, and starvation. Frequent are mentions of scarce supplies and docked pay. Official documents reveal inadequate supplies being sent for a division and a constant stream of incoming Honorary Britannians to replace the ones lost. Even within those documents, another troubling trend arises as numerous shipments disappear into thin air or arrive with half their contents missing. The 712th was a basin of corruption and would have remained that way, if it wasn't for an unusual occurrence on October 17th, 2012: the 712th wasn't annihilated. This marks the first of many occurrences where the division survived despite the odds stacked against them. _

_ —The Rise of the Zero Division _

* * *

**Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

Snowflakes slowly drifted through the sky in lazy swirls as Lelouch stumbled forward in the fresh powdered snow. The snow crunched beneath his boots. He tightened his grip on the fraying winter uniform and shivered as snow leaked into the gap between his leg and the shoe. The day had barely begun, and already the snow leaking into his boots, was beginning to melt and form an icy puddle. It was too early for snow, but winter had come early, and there was nothing Lelouch could do about it. As he stepped into the makeshift mess tent, Lelouch allowed himself to sigh and stretch his back. Pablo, carrying a steaming hot soup wandered over to him, as Lelouch stood in line for his own serving.

"Have you heard of the new officer arriving today? Some Fortune or something. Rodri says he sounds like a proper ass. Was already shouting up a storm or something."

Lelouch shook his head as he accepted his own scalding soup and gently took a sip. The droplet of warmth tore through his body, and settled uncomfortably in his stomach. Cautiously, he took another sip, before turning back to Pablo and asking, "What's his rank?"

Pablo laughed. "Well if Rodri is right... Second Lieutenant. Can you believe it? Barely anything and he thinks he's the Emperor's gift to the world or something."

Taking a sip to hide his amusement, Lelouch continued to listen.

"Did you hear back from your sister yet?"

"No—"

"—I heard there was a package for you. Any chance it might be from her?"

Lelouch stared forlornly at the remaining smears of his soup. Ripping off a piece of bread, he finished soaking up the last remnants. "Perhaps. Why don't you come along? "

Pablo followed him silently into the biting cold. Edgar waved at him cheerfully as he passed by hauling a heavy load on a makeshift sled. In an hour, it would be Lelouch's shift again and he would join his squad in helping to finish setting up the camp. He had a feeling that the early winter storm would not pass them by easily. 

They arrived at the informal post station, a lone tent surrounded by packages and a blizzard of chaos, as officers and soldiers congregated and barked to another. A loaded truck honked as it shot past their right hand side and came to a sudden halt. A middle aged officer stormed to the driver, barking orders and directing the unhauling efforts.

Stepping out of the way of two baby faced soldiers, Pablo commented, "Britannian Military Post. A wonderful chaos. Your left. Left! Not right."

Lelouch sheepishly ducked his head as he stepped to the left and let the soldiers rush by, carrying over their shoulders, a fresh batch of rifles.

"Where is my shipment!" Screamed a new officer, storming towards the truck. Despite his furious tone, the words rolled over his tongue and the painful familiarity caused Lelouch to look at the newcomer in shock. "I do not care for your fatuous excuses. When I tell you to get something done, I expect it to be done."

The accent was painfully familiar and Lelouch lowered his head , shielding his eyes, as the noble stormed by. Whoever they were, they were from an important noble family in New Pendragon. Lelouch watched the bright blond hair leave out of the corner of his eye.

"Pleasant fellow, isn't he?" Pablo muttered as he pulled Lelouch inside to a crate buried beneath various packages and sitting in the dark corner of the tent. "That's your name isn't it? Better claim it fast," he hissed as he looked over his shoulder. "Whatever bribe your friend may have given, got it this far, but let's not push our luck."

"Our luck?" Lelouch drawled and rolled his eyes. "You're just curious aren't you?"

Pablo sniffed. "Well, I did go to all this trouble to make sure no one else would find it while I fetched you. Even had to trade a favor with the lady over there, Now hurry up won't you."

Lelouch gently shoved the crate. It didn't budge. Who had the resources to send him... whatever this was? "And your plan Pablo? Are we just going to carry it out of here?"

"Well," Pablo ducked down, peeking around the tent. "I told—"

Henry waved to Lelouch and smirked as he sat down silently behind Pablo.

"—Henry to watch the package." Finally Pablo's eyes settled on Henry right before him and startled backwards into a mountain of letters. 

Henry stared at Pablo for a moment, before turning to Lelouch and holding up three bags. "He asked me to watch the package. We will distribute it among these bags and walk out, looking as if we're going to deliver the mail."

Biting his lip, Lelouch stared into Henry's eyes. "And you're ok with this? You don't even know what's in it."

"We'll be sharing," Henry replied, winking. "That's what Pablo suggested."

Pablo shrugged carelessly as Lelouch narrowed his eyes at him. Shaking his head, he grabbed a crowbar and slowly pried open the crate, desperately hoping there was nothing incriminating inside. On top of a mountain of oranges, chocolate, and other smaller packages, laid two letters. Lelouch grabbed them, his fingers noticing the rather standard quality of paper: finer than what could be found in the military, but nothing compared to the thick, smooth paper used by the noble families. He relaxed, as he broke the seal.

Henry asked, "So who is it from?"

A small smile graced his lips. "My sister... and her friends." His fingers breezed over the raised bumps and he winced. She was definitely not pleased with his omission. He just didn’t want to worry her, yet she was.

Pablo walked over, fished out an orange from the crate and eyed it appreciatively. "Will she help send my letter?"

Lelouch nodded. "But both of us will be reading them, you understand?"

Out of the pocket of his coat, Pablo pulled out a wrinkled envelope, with frayed edges. His hands shook slightly as he pushed it into Lelouch's hands. "It doesn't matter. Just make sure they get it."

His mouth dried as his fingers curled around the letter and Lelouch carefully tucked it into his pocket, before turning back to the crate of goodies from the student council. As he stared at the first aid kit, buried at the bottom, Lelouchhe finally dared to ask, "Are you telling your family the truth? About this?"

Out of the corner of his eyes, Lelouch could see Pablo leaning back and closing his eyes. "I went against their wishes by enlisting, but it was, no, has to be the right thing to do. Even if they know the risks, at least they know I'm healthy for now. If I died without... saying goodbye, just another number lost on a list to the chaos of war... I would never forgive myself... and they will never find closure."

Lelouch should write back, but the thought of hurting his sister with his situation's rather bleak assessment made him feel physically ill. All he wanted to do was to protect her, but in doing so, he put her heart in danger. 

"Lelouch," Pablo muttered, his hand suddenly dropping on his shoulder, "Be honest, but focus on the good. Share the good memories and don't let your regrets weigh you down."

Already, Lelouch had so many regrets, but there was nothing he could do about them. Yet he knew he would regret it even more if Nunnally discovered him lying to her. At least he could eliminate one regret... and tell the truth. If only it didn't hurt so much.

* * *

**HEA Carlton, Celebes Sea, By the Philippines**

Cornelia took a moment to look down at the rolling sea and the waves crashing against the hull of the ship. Fine sea mist sprayed into the air and clung to her hair. The smell of the ocean followed her inside the depth of the ship as she approached the bridge. Soldiers saluted as she walked by, pressing themselves against the dimly lit metal walls. Their respect was by the book... yet, she could feel their heavy eyes boring into her back. 

She was under no delusions. They were her enemies.

"Princess... Brigadier Cornelia," a familiar voice called out at the end of the hallway, holding a pristine salute.

Her shoulders rolled back and her steps firmed as she stared at the young man. "Lord Guilford, you have arrived."

"Yes Your Highness. Thirty minutes ago. I was informed you would be attending this afternoon's war council. It is my honor to serve you my lady. Thank you!" He finished with a tight bow, his left arm lagging behind.

"Do your injuries still ail you?" Cornelia inquired.

His face flushed, but he didn't flinch. "Your assistance ensured I received the best medical care possible, Your Highness. I am forever in your debt."

Cornelia's mouth tightened as an elder lord pushed past her and muttered a hasty insincere apology before disappearing around the corner. Her chest feeling tight, she dipped her head marginally. "Lord Guilford, you saved my life. There is no debt between us."

"Your Highness," he began to protest.

She swiftly spoke over him. "Will you continue to serve me faithfully in mind and body?"

Lord Guildford knelt on the ground, despite the tight quarters. "It would be my honor, my lady."

With Jeremiah taking over his father's duties, she had been without an ally. Unlike Lady Marianne, Cornelia had no list of great victories to her name or public favor from her father. Now... Now, she had Lord Guildford and he had already saved her life at great risk to his own. To move forward, she needed allies and to take risks. If he was trustworthy, she would reap great rewards.

If not? 

Cornelia turned around, not willing to consider the consequences. There was no need to tempt fate. She would succeed because she was royalty. Her blood was bred for superiority and victory. She had learned from the best. Victory was assured. She only needed the chance.

"Come Lord Guilford, the war council and the Emperor awaits. If you need anything to adequately perform your duties, just ask." And that was as close as she would come to offering her patronage. She was royalty, and would never admit to needing to offer quid pro quo. Especially, to someone lesser than her.

The bridge had been cleared of all non-essential personnel, leaving only a watchman staring out the great windows into the open sea. The Captain, Lord Lindsey, sat in an armchair, smoke curling from his cigarette as he waited for the large screen to activate. The other nobles, chests laden with medals, stood at attention, their heads bowed respectfully, waiting for the missive. 

Cornelia cleared her throat and few lords cast her a quick glance, before focusing on the screen again. Rolling her eyes at their disrespect and to cover her own irritation at being annoyed, she walked forward and coldly ordered, "Move."

Begrudgingly, a few lords took a step to the side, allowing her to stand before the screen.

The screen flickered on and Cornelia prepared to bow.

"Such a courteous welcome," drawled Schneizel, "there is no need."

Cornelia's head snapped up and she stared at her brother lounging on a decadent sofa. 

"Unfortunately, my father has some other tasks to attend to," Schneizel continued. "He trusts me to make sure there are no complications with your operation. Empress Marianne has secured the Eastern Coast, and with supplies and reinforcements from Area Eleven, her position is under no threat. The government is expected to fall shortly."

No. Cornelia pressed her hands against her side. The fight had barely begun and she hadn't had the opportunity to prove herself. It couldn't be over yet.

"But as Area Eleven taught us, the government and the military aren't always aligned. We must insure the people surrender completely, and eliminate all hope of resistance. Currently, they cling onto the belief that the Chinese or E.U. will be their savior. Your fleet is critical in ensuring that belief remains a fantasy."

"Understood Your Highness," the officer to her left shouted. "They don't stand a chance."

Schneizel's cold eyes settled on the man. "Make sure they don't Lieutenant." His eyes swept over the room and narrowed at the Captain, blowing rings in the smoke. "Is this not engaging for you Captain?"

Lord Lindsey exhaled slowly and drawled, "Well boy—"

"—Prime Minister... Captain."

"Well, Prime Minister boy," the Captain stood up and stretched his back, "I was expecting the Emperor, not some wet behind the ears, little Prince, playing at military affairs."

Schneizel's masks didn't slip. "I speak on the Emperor's behalf."

The Captain chuckled. "And our orders haven't changed... Your Highness. We'll continue to fire on any hostile ship and ensure that they do not pass." He took a slow drag on the cigarette. "You are not the Emperor and he must surely not trust you, if he has you acting as his message boy to already tell us what we know."

Cornelia clenched her jaw at the blatant disrespect. Being a lord did not mean he could spit on royalty. Her family had accomplished more than this man or any of his ancestors had ever done. Seeing the slight twinge in the corner of her brother's mouth, she listened eagerly. His face twisted into a smile, pleasant and warm, yet his eyes were frigid.

Calm as a summer breeze, Schneizel said, "I do have an additional order for a knightmare platoon if you would let me finish  _ Captain. _ "

Unconcerned, the Captain sank back into his seat. "Go on. I'm not delaying you."

Schneizel's brow twitched marginally, before relaxing again. "We have intercepted orders for a heavily defended caravan moving a delicate cargo from Davao to Leyte. They risk becoming a nuisance for Empress Marianne's forces, so must be eliminated as soon as possible. They leave tomorrow night. Will you be able to spare the knightmares... Captain?"

The captain crossed his arms. "It would be a voluntary assignment Prime Minister boy. Our orders are to engage enemy ships and use our knightmares to assist such efforts. If you wish us to eliminate a minor nuisance, you'll need to ask who would abandon their post to hunt pests."

Guilford twitched and dipped his chin slightly. Her heart hammered within her chest. There was no chance to gain honor surrounded by people who hated her. She had no useful skill to apply to combat on the sea, but she did know how to pilot a knightmare. And Lord Guilford would support her.

Cornelia stepped forward. "Brother, if the Captain is so hesitant to send out his men, allow me to lead the charge. Unlike all these other decorated officers, I do not have an urgent post requiring my attention."

Schneizel stared at her in silence for a moment, allowing her to read nothing from his face. "You will not accomplish your task alone Cornelia."

"I have men, brother. It is of no concern. The vermin is no match for the might of the royal family."

Chuckling, he leaned back. "Of course not. Very well Cornelia. Good luck." 

The screen turned black and immediately the other officers walked away. Taking a second to compose herself after her brother's abrupt departure, she exited the bridge, Lord Guilford falling into step behind her.

"Regretting following me already Lord Guilford?"

"Not at all Your Highness. With great risks come great rewards. Will you give me the liberty to find us some trustworthy knights?"

"Remind me to send my brother a thank you note once we succeed, Guilford." She turned around and looked him into the eyes. "Make sure they are loyal."

* * *

**Ottawa, Area 2**

Brigit watched the snowflakes race through the dimly lit maze of buildings, with the cold winter wind hurrying them along. It was supposed to be a full moon, but glancing at the sky, the clouds blotted out all natural light. The wind tugged at her cloak and she pressed her hands to the mustache firmly attached to her face. It would not fly away. She had insured it.

Art, his steps nearly drowned out by the roaring wind, stopped besides her, shivering. "Ready for this B—Count?"

She smiled tightly and took a step back from the edge of the icy roof. "It's a nice view isn't it, Art?"

"Yes?"

Chuckling, she turned away from the city and pointed to the small flickering lights in the blanket of darkness. "From here, you wouldn't even know there's an army huddling in the cold and trying to shelter out a storm."

"And that's why folks think you're some kind of demon. It's freezing. Let's head back inside."

Still, she did not move. "A demon? I think we're rather blessed by God. A foot of snow, the darkest night, and winds that cover the sound of a tank. It's the perfect night for an ambush. Aren't we blessed?"

She could almost hear him roll his eyes, as he dryly replied, "If the weather was a sign from above, it would be much more helpful for a lightning bolt to strike the Emperor. We've been waiting for a chance, and we got it a bit earlier than expected. That's nature, not divinity."

Turning around, the joking smile slipped away and she stared down at him. "What do you think of this?"

Art shrugged. "They're Numbers aren't they? And they wouldn't have brought the Twos. Not that there are many of them in the first place. None of our folks care for them beyond lip service, and by attacking the expendables, our troops will get experience without appearing much more threatening."

"Bloody Marianne sure did a number on us," Brigit conceded, "I'd rather not have my newly found army of Crows decimated just as the fight begins again. I've heard the locals have been using the Britsthem as target practice."

"No one likes the Brit brutesarmy. But I've found no evidence of it being organized at a greater level. Just angry mobs. When we drive the army North, they'll probably join our movement. And it should be enough for the French to send further support."

"Good," Brigit nodded. "Let's begin then."

* * *

**A Guard Post, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

Guard duty wasn't the most demanding job, but it involved doing a lot of nothing in the freezing cold. Lelouch curled his fingers together within the gloves, trying to conserve some heat. The direction of the wind changed and blasted them with small little pricks of ice.

Lelouch turned around, in an attempt to shield his face. "I hate guard duty."

"Orange?" Edgar offered.

Lowering the scarf to his chin, Lelouch accepted the chilled slice. The sweet flavor burst over his tongue and he closed his eyes.

Frederick whined besides them, "Where is my slice Edgar? I thought I was best your mate." His voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "Are you replacing me with Lelouch?"

Edgar popped an orange slice into his mouth and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Well his sister got us oranges. And I love oranges."

Alex chortled from the back of the shelter. "I think Frederick ya being replaced."

"Noooo!" Frederick cried, falling to the ground, before bursting out in laughter.

Edgar punched Frederick in the shoulder and shook his head. "I regret to inform you, I'm marrying an orange. And as a married man, I unfortunately will no longer have time for you."

A moment of silence and everyone broke down, laughing. Lelouch took a deep breath as he stared back outside, but the grin remained. The freezing metal barrel of the gun could be felt through his thick coat, yet despite the cold, a few oranges and some laughter, allowed them to overcome nature.

"Pay attention, you idiots!" Roy shouted as he stormed back inside their little shelter. "We're on guard duty."

Henry, slinked in behind him, eagerly sat in the far corner as he rubbed his hands.

"It's just a bit of fun," Frederick protested.

"Guard duty means guarding! Or do you want to be attacked again?" Roy shot back.

"Calm down," Edgar pleaded as he came to his friend's defense. "Nothing is out there. Nobody would be, in this weather."

As the duo withered under Roy's glare and ensuing speech, Alex sat down besides Lelouch. "Your sister has some good friends."

"She sure does," Lelouch admitted. The care package from the student council had been truly unexpected.

"You've got that look."

"What look?" Lelouch asked, turning back to Alex.

Alex squinted his eyes and nodded. "The one where you're feeling guilty."

"I'm not—" Lelouch paused, "It's not guilt. I told Nunnally I'm thankful, but... I told her the truth. Well, most of it. And now she's going to be worried."

Snorting, "Considering the number of bandaids, she was already worried. So you're feeling guilty about being honest. You're strange."

"Well no," Lelouch sighed, "I want to make it up to her. I'm already missing her birthday, and if she's going to be worried about me, the least I can do is get her something..."

Alex rubbed his hands together and glanced quickly back at Roy, still berating the other two, "Tomorrow, I can probably sneak to town. Hell, I'm sure I could disguise you too. What do you think? A little adventure? Risk a court martial?"

"Not too eager for that," Lelouch admitted... but if it was for his sister? Biting his lip, he asked, "Do you think they'd let us go, if I asked?"

Alex's deadpan stare answered him quite clearly.

"Well I still have a few days if I want it to arrive on time. Let's not get too extreme yet. It is... just a birthday present."

"How painful was it to say that?"

Lelouch chuckled. "Very."

Pulling out his flask, Alex swished the water. "Well somehow folks are getting alcohol, but for that, they'd actually have to talk to us."

The black market was always an option, but despite Lelouch's best efforts, he had yet managed to weasel the information out of Pablo. He was close. Once Nunnally sent a letter back from Pablo's family, Lelouch might finally be considered trustworthy. All he could do on that front, was wait. "You may be a street rat Alex, but you're still clearly Britannian. They don't trust us."

Alex groaned. "I know. Most of them think Roy is a spy because of his family. They’re basically nobles with how much money they're rolling in."

"Money doesn't make a noble, besides, Roy is nowhere near subtle enough for a spy."

"And he loves his rules too much. He'd be dead within a week if he were on the streets. But I trust him."

The yelling had ceased behind him and Lelouch cast a glance back to see Roy handing out ration bars. "His heart is in the right place... How are things with Sergeant Malfoire going?"

"Great!" Alex's face seemed to glow as he recounted the various lessons. "He simply knows so much. And he never gets mad when I don't get it. It's almost too good to be true. Ya know you're not getting promoted, if ya don't specialize. And he has offered to teach you."

Forcing the nausea down at Alex’s admiration of York, Lelouch shook his head. "I'll figure it out. Frederick isn't sure yet either what he wants to do."

Alex stared at him with eyes. "Just join me for one lesson. Sergeant Malfoire won't mind and you're better than me. Just one lesson. Please?"

Lelouch was saved from answering, as something flashed within the blanket of darkness and snow. Pulling out his radio, he called, "This is KY-7-B, do you copy, KY-3-C? Over."

"We copy loud and clear. Over."

"Suspicious movement in your sector. Bearing two-seven degrees East, of your position. Over."

"Unit moving to investigate. Will report in five. Over."

"We copy. Awaiting further information. Over." Lelouch put the radio aside and brushed the snow off the gun.

Alex stood up slowly, and signaled the others to prepare. Standing next to Lelouch, he whispered, "It's probably a bear."

"A glowing bear?" Lelouch hissed. He shifted the gun and waited for a reply on the radio. "Probably just some locals heading home. It's nothing."

The snow crunched softly, and Lelouch flinched, turning to see Roy walking slowly, his gun ready. Even if it was just the locals, they might not look kindly upon them. It was best to be prepared. Lelouch's fingers curled around the barrel of the rifle, as he checked the trigger, and wiped snow away from vital parts. Like his boots, the rifle was old and worn. It had once belonged to another soldier, fallen in battle. 

Henry shifted closer to him, pulling out a knife, as they heard only silence over the radio. The other squadron should have reported back. Roy nodded at Lelouch slowly, and he picked up the radio again, urgently tapping the side.

The radio hissed, and finally, a new voice broke through. "Do you copy? Shit." Muffled gun fire crackled behind him. "This is KY-3-A. It's an Edinburgh!"

Ignoring protocol, Lelouch urgently asked, "Identify hostiles!"

"Crows." The sound of gunfire rattled through the background and Lelouch's hand curled around the receiver, knowing he could do nothing. Over the howling of the wind, a piercing gunshot whistled through the air. "Save the Queen. Over... Make'em pay."

Harsh crackles burst forth from the speaker and KY-3-A roared. Guns fired. Voices yelled, growing quieter.

"Lelouch," Roy whispered.

Lelouch nodded and changed the channel, and swallowed. "KY-7-B reporting of potential Crows on the Eastern front. Unknown numbers. Unit KY-3 has been lost. Awaiting further instructions. Over."

The wind stilled for a moment and one last gunshot rang through the air, followed by silence. 

The order came with condemning finality: "Hold your position."

The squadron stared at another in silence, and Roy grimaced. "Shit. Shit. We don't have numbers. We can't see anything. And we're supposed to sit tight."

Lelouch watched Roy pace back and forth, massaging his temples. They had their order. Disobeying would be treason.

Roy froze, pointing at the lone lamp, in their shelter. "They'll know our location. Officially... Officially, we maintained our position. We'll turn it off and let them pass by."

"And if it's an army?" Alex asked softly. Seeing the looks from the others, he shrugged. "Plan for the worst. It's an army, marching onto our position. Besides, the Crows are supposed to be gone. If a crime lord vanishes from the street, he has to come back with a bang, to fend off the vultures. Prove his strength. The Count? If it's him, he'll be making examples."

Roy scowled, and picked up the lamp, moving it to the front of their little shelter. "Lelouch, you're my second. I need you to lead the advance team."

Automatically, Alex stepped closer to Lelouch and Henry raised his hand, slowly lumbering over. "Might as well be the shortest folks."

His hand trembling, Lelouch nodded at the two, before holding up the only radio they had. "Communications might be compromised. And we just have rifles."

"Could really do with a knightmare, one man army, about now, " Roy joked. "But we'll make do. We know they'll come here, which gives us an advantage. Do whatever you need Lelouch. It's not like anyone important cares."

"Acknowledged. I'll take the radio if you don't need it." Lelouch replied, then he turned around to look into the darkness. Pulling out his flashlight, and holding it under his jacket to only allow it to illuminate their surroundings, he prepared to head out. Step One: Scout the enemy's position. Alex and Henry followed silently behind.

His mother was going to kill him and then ground him for eternity.

* * *

**By Gatineau River, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

Brigit moved her knightmare through the storm with ease. The military base she had marked on the map, waited tantalizing before her. The wind buffeted the side of the knightmare and her lips curled in anticipation. Nothing was more inspiring than a knightmare on one's side. Her troops were ready, although perhaps only half trained. The knightmare would be enough to turn the tide.

Wind pushed the knightmare to the side and she adjusted carefully. An early winter storm was incredibly fortuitous. The scant knightmares in the division, held by a few wealthy officers who had fallen out of favor, would be useless on the suddenly unfamiliar terrain and battling powerful winds. And if she was lucky, they would become a liability.

"Art," she called over the radio, "have you resolved the issue? Over."

"Unexpected rupture of a sakuradite cell sir. The investigating patrol has been taken out, but it is fair to assume the enemy suspects we might be out here. Over."

"Did the patrol have a chance to report back? Over." A surprise attack was useless, if it wasn't a surprise.

"Our auxiliary guard intercepted them sir. They don't know our numbers, but they were in radio contact. Over."

She had planned every aspect of the upcoming battlefield, yet the unexpected was threatening to throw everything into disarray. She could not afford to lose. Her strength had to be proven. "Bring me the radio Art."

"Acknowledged."

Her army having paused, Brigit waited besides her knightmare, ears strained to hear any possible trouble. Given the weather, it was possible for the base to mobilize and head out into the night, but miss her army. There was no visibility. Looking at the worn radio in her hands, she tapped her finger against its side, trailing along the various grooves and scratches. She had to know what the enemy knew. 

Smirking, she flicked it on. "Hello?"

"Who are you?" The voice that greeted her sounded young, but the accent was posh and Eastern. A noble. An officer. 

She smirked. "Just a concerned citizen. Your man seems to have succumbed from frostbite."

"You're handling military property sir. I will send a patrol to collect our property and reprimand the errant soldier."

Brigit tilted her head to the side as she glanced at Art. Had the soldier failed to get out a warning? It seemed almost too good to be true, but fortune was with her. Art shook his head, his brow furrowed in suspicion.

"Your position sir?"

"A little out of town my lord. Perhaps you wish to wait until the morning, I wouldn't want any other good men of yours to succumb to frostbite."

Mercilessly, the officer replied, "Only the weak would have succumbed. I thank you for your loyalty sir. Are you by the river sir?"

Yes. "No. East. An hour's walk out, judging by the weather."

"Understood. I will be there shortly."

The radio cut out and Brigit pursed her lips as she stared back down at the radio. "A noble coming to us? A hostage could solve our monetary issues. Send a group to ambush them when they arrive."

"And if he's playing us?" Art asked.

"Keep everyone on high alert, and we'll move into the forest. It will slow us down, but the storm is hardly letting up anytime soon."

"Understood sir." Art saluted mockingly, and marched away, barking out orders, to the dimly lit troops, trudging through the weather.

Brigit shrugged and tucked the radio into her coat, keeping it on, in case the noble called again. She was half tempted to change the channel, but a loyal citizen wouldn't, and she had to respond if the noble called. Smirking, she sat down and began to move the knightmare into the dense forest. Despite the small hiccup, things were going to plan.

**Close by...**

"Do you think he bought it?"

Lelouch turned off the radio and shrugged. "It doesn't matter Alex. If there's an army, they would be moving by the river. Visibility is shot because of the storm, but in the forest? Half the army might get lost and they wouldn't be able to bring heavier firepower, and if they're attacking the base, they'll need firepower."

Alex, illuminated by the glow of the flashlight beneath his coat, nodded. "Still a scary accent. Almost could imagine ya as a real and proper noble there for a moment. So we're heading to the river."

Lelouch's smile felt too tight on his face. "Yes. But we'll stick to the trees."

"Great," Henry replied sarcastically, "We're going to wander through the woods, in the dark. But we left Frederick with Roy, and we suck at navigating." 

"This the hand we were dealt. Stop complaining," Lelouch hissed. "Now be quiet. I have to concentrate."

Lelouch's step length was around fifteen inches. The river, according to the map, was about a mile out. Approximately 4,873 steps to the river. All he had to do was head in the correct direction. Holding the compass in his left hand, Lelouch took a deep breath and focused on the needle. Once before, they had walked through a snowstorm. It was just like training.

Ten minutes later, Lelouch's flashlight flickered.

Three minute later, it died, casting Lelouch into darkness.

Alex's glowing form moved closer and they continued, Lelouch carefully counting the steps, his eyes focused on the dimly lit compass, and not letting the needle waver. They had to succeed.

Twenty minutes later, at long last, Lelouch could see the faint lights and hear the rumble of an army moving through the snow, too loud, for even the wind to drown it out. They had made it. 

Extinguishing their flashlights, the trio clambered up a tree to watch the slow moving army.

The radio crackled and Lelouch grinned, as he turned on. "You are not to touch the radio sir."

The man on the other side, one who Lelouch strongly suspected to be in charge, or perhaps even the Count himself, said, "We were expecting you to arrive. Where are you sir?"

"Military business isn't a concern for a peasant. We are arriving, but I do not see you sir. Do you perhaps have a light?" The radio ceased it's crackling and Lelouch wondered if the man had simply tired of playing, now that the lie was exposed.

The radio crackled back to life. "You're toying with me, officer. Isn't that rather rude? What happened to facing your opponent across the battlefield?"

The Count. If only he had the actual power to make something of the situation, instead of bluffing and desperately hoping that the base was preparing for the army. Pushing himself further into the tree, Lelouch continued his feint. "The infamous Count, I presume? Who is the one trying to sneak onto my base? You're the one resorting to subterfuge."

"So you're preparing a warm welcome for me. I'm honored. Then shall we dispense the game, my lord?"

Nervously, Lelouch glanced at the army. Roy trusted him to pull another miracle. There had to be something he could do. Henry nodded at him, and slid down the tree, disappearing into the forest.

"What's he doing?" Alex hissed.

Lelouch shrugged. "Don't know. We'll just have to trust him. Alex? Is your gun ready? I want you to find a tree a bit more to their rear. Fire when ready."

"Yes sir." Alex replied, serious.

The radio crackled again. "I'm getting impatient. Don't leave your opponent hanging."

"I'm a busy man Count. You did bring an army of peasants to my doorstep. A great deal of clean up work for me. Rather rude of you, isn't it?"

"You're bluffing," the Count replied dryly and the radio became silent. Below him the enemy began to move, marching forward, to a small distant light flickering. The guard camp where Roy, Frederick, and Edgar waited, relying on Lelouch.

* * *

**En Route to Leyte, Philippines**

A small force behind her, Cornelia leaned back in the cockpit of her knightmare. Schneizel's intelligence expected the enemy to pass this point, and her platoon was ready for an ambush. Outside of some pigs, a crocodile, and a herd of weird goat-like creatures, nothing moved. Sweat dripped down her face and she stared out at the sun, slowly beginning to descend. 

Where were they? She loathed waiting. 

Opening a channel to Lord Guilford, she asked, "Any movement?"

"No sir. Everything is normal," he replied, wearily. "Your highness?"

Taking a sip of water, "Yes?"

"Could our info be a bust?"

The others probably thought that, but Cornelia knew her brother... and trusted him. There were few absolute truths she believed in: the absolute power of her father, her sister's kind heart, and Schneizel never being wrong. Not once had his predictions failed and she doubted he had lost that endless strive for perfection.

"No," she replied, her eyes on the bend of the road, "they'll be there."

"Of course," he replied dutifully, although she could hear the doubt in his voice.

It wasn't like her brother to be wrong, but perhaps he had intended this as a test for the captain, but she had sprung his trap instead. Anyone else would have quit, but her faith in her brother kept her here. And the knowledge that if she failed, she would once again be failing Lady Marianne.

"Movement at my eight," reported the scout.

"Finally," Cornelia cried, and sat upright, "Everyone, prepare yourself."

A convoy of tanks, surrounding a large truck, rounded the bend. Soldiers stood on top of the truck, attentive and ready to fire. They would be no match for Britannia's might, and her mouth curled upwards in anticipation. But Sapporo had taught her the folly of moving ahead. Even with superior power and force, the enemy might be lucky. An absolute victory meant crushing them completely.

The convoy neared.

"Now!" she barked.

They flew out of the trees, piercing the defense easily and the tanks rolled back from recoil, the shells firing wide. Her platoon was far from cohesive, but as they surrounded the caravan, and the slash-harkens tore through the tanks, she could see something greater forming. Lord Guilford had found obedient men with potential. 

The soldiers scrambled along the ground, out of the way. Throwing grenades and cowering on the ground like cowards. Seeing a few run to the truck, her eyes narrowed. Desperate creatures created desperate plans and desperate plans were... unpredictable. Moving forward, she swept into their path. The knightmare's gun swung to the right, tearing through the truck's canopy.

A mountain of bright pink glistened.

Sakuradite.

A bomb.

Enough to carve a canyon.

She should retreat, the resulting explosion would be catastrophic, even for a knightmare. But she had promised to win. Winning did not mean letting the enemy have one last grand stand to make a statement. Schneizel wanted their hopes and dreams shattered. The sakuradite was that dream.

She moved forward, flattening soldiers who stood in her way. Her knightmare's hands curled around the volatile sakuradite and a cacophony of voice screamed at her through the radio. Cornelia smiled, and lifted it higher, delicately handling the controls. A sudden jolt would blow them sky high. Her ejection seat would save her. 

Guilford's knightmare swung to her side, swatting an enemy and his rocket launcher to the side. "Your Highness, we should split the load."

He understood what had to be done. Instead of protesting her actions, he was helping her accomplish her goal. She had chosen well. Cornelia lowered the knightmare's hand, allowing Guilford the opportunity to grab a portion of sakuradite.

Turning on her microphone, Cornelia walked to the river, and stared at the small town downstream. The enemy being such simple folks led them to rely on the stream. Without it? Their town would be crippled. And only a little sakuradite was needed to change the course of the river.

"You have lost. Cease your pointless resistance, or," the knightmare's hand moved over the river. The threat was clear.

The soldiers shouted, and even from above in her knightmare, she could feel their shock. Letting the knightmare's hand begin to tip sideways, she watched in glee as they threw their weapons on the ground and raised their hands. People thought that their own lives were expendable, but rarely would someone risk both themselves and everyone they knew for a cause. 

These soldiers were just ill trained locals.They cared only to protect their home and if they surrendered, Britannia would have no quarrel with them.

"Congratulations, Princess Cornelia," Guilford praised, "Now, for your safety, I must insist you put down the explosives."

He dared to order her. A Princess. She burst out laughing. "I won Guilford, I won."

"Yes you did."

Calming herself, but unable to erase the ridiculous grin on her face, Cornelia said, "You brought together a platoon that made it possible."

"It was my duty," he replied modestly. 

Why did he refuse to take advantage of the situation? Any other noble would be throwing themselves at her feet or trying to steal the victory from her. Instead, he risked his life without question. Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, "Will you join my royal guard, Sir Guilford?"

"Of course Your Highness."

* * *

**Approaching 712th's Forward Base, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

Brigit clenched her teeth. The officer had tried to play her. She almost wanted to reopen the channel and ask for his name. There had been the expected noble conceitedness, but he had achieved what he had set out to do: buy time. And she had fallen right into his trap. Now the enemy would be prepared. Spinning the knightmare around, she stared at the distant pinprick of light indicating the camp. There was no more time to waste.

"We're beginning our assault now!" she ordered over her troop's radio. The mysterious officer had been cunning, too cunning. He was a threat. "Focus fire on the officer tent. Destroy supplies and bait them towards the river."

The great army surged forward, an unoiled machine, creaking and sputtering, but incredibly deadly. They pushed through the forest, lights on, no longer bothering with stealth. To her surprise, no forces came out to meet her, as they neared the lone light. Behind it, lights flickered to life. A small guard post. 

"Art, is everyone in position?"

"Yes sir."

"Then—"

"No sir. Gunfire on our rear."

Had they been flanked? Spinning around, she was met with the bright explosion, pink, of what had been her refueling cells. 

Her radio crackled back to life. "Missed me? It was quite uncouth of me to leave you hanging. Were the fireworks an adequate apology?"

"Quiet," she bit out through clenched teeth. "May I know the name of my opponent?"

"Only if you tell me yours... Count, but I doubt you will. Until next time."

The radio fell silent, and she could hear gunshots from all sides, as her new troops fired frantically into the darkness, desperate to defeat the unseen foe. Unwilling to risk even further derailment, she turned on the troop wide channel. "All units, move forward!"

Not waiting for acknowledgment, she powered her knightmare fully, turning on the various hazard lights and the high beam to illuminate her way. Closing her eyes, she orientated herself and the river nearby. Even if the entire army was there waiting for her, Brigit would continue to hold the upper hand. It was a shame that her skills would be revealed so early on, but a loss would be more devastating.

Ignoring the abandoned guard post, with its small flickering light, Brigit stormed over the crest of the hill. The wind howled at her back, pushing the knightmare forward, and letting her move forward with speed she had never imagined. Lit by gas lamps, an array of tents greeted her. Small ants scurried in out and out of the patches of light, but she paid them no mind.

Officer tents were always in the center, far from any possible action. And those were her objectives. She refused to let that officer make a fool of her again. She would end him. The radio was crackling again, this time with general orders, as the Britannian army ceased radio silence.

On her factsphere, she saw the small lights of her forces's IFF signals, attached to the tanks. Victory was only assured with a strong lance, tearing through the enemy's center line of defense. Swinging her knightmare to the side, she slipped by the piercing blow of an enemy knightmare. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another approach and rolled forward with the wind at her back. 

The enemy knightmares fumbled and stumbled, battling against the wind. She danced, swaying with wind, and adjusting to its mercurial moods. 

Flicking a switch, as she dodged once more, "Art. I will take care of the knightmares. Move forward and break through the command tent. I want them dead."

"Yes sir. Do you require any backup?"

"No." A wicked smile curled on her lips as she weaved through the knightmares, they're slash-harkens sailing through the air and stalling. "These amateurs will be no trouble. Have Unit Three, peel off, and circle around back to flank the enemy taking potshots."

"Acknowledged. Good luck."

Not bothering to reply, Brigit raced to the river, dancing and mocking her pursuers. The noble idiots behind her charged recklessly after, slowly adapting to the wind. It would be too little, too late.

Invisible to the eye, but under the thick blanket of snow, was the river. She picked up speed and she could just imagine their delight, thinking she was fleeing. They hurried after.

A modified knightmare, swung by her swiftly, and Brigit curled the metal hands. As it cut before her, she threw an uppercut into the knightmare's shoulder. A second would have saved the pilot, but they moved too late. The right arm hung uselessly at its side. Brigit knew the repair costs would be astronomical, but she moved forward regardless. Always onwards because hesitation meant death. The hill was about to begin sloping downwards, leaving her precious few seconds, to trick the other knightmares into a full charge.

Leaping into the air, Brigit fired her slash-harken, at almost point blank, into the enemy knightmare. It sunk into the chassis, letting loose a dying shriek and lodged tightly within. The enemy knightmare toppled backwards, hung in the air for a few precious moments, and crashed onto the fresh powdered snow. 

Suddenly subjected to a thousand pounds, the snow packed together tightly, and as Brigit landed on the downed knightmare's torso. Gravity did the rest of the work. It began to slide.

The enemy knightmares followed her and their downed companion off the ledge, hurtling towards the masked river. Brigit snarled as she tried to pull the knightmare arm free, but the slash-harken refused to move. In the nightmarish landscape of black darkness, illuminated by bright swashes of snow, she had lost track of the river.

She had to eject now.

The knightmare had been stolen from the former Lady Melbourne. It would be a dangerous link to her identity. One she could not risk. A loud crack cut through the sounds of battle and she struggled to free herself once more. Cutting the slash-harken loose, she jumped through the air, gliding upwards, and slamming down onto the ground, thankfully not the ice.

Her opponents weren't as lucky. 

The ice creaked, groaned... and shattered.

The water roared as it broke free from its icy prison, thrust upwards by the sinking knightmares. Illuminated by the faint light, the tidal wave slammed onto the shore and the remaining knightmares.

Ice cold water seeped into the cockpit and the knightmare groaned at the sudden pressure. She could feel the knightmare tilting, as the current pushed against her away from the river. Shivering, she grabbed the controls, pushing the knightmare upright against the tide. Water still seeped through the cracks, drowning her shoes. Ice began to coat the cockpit and Brigit had enough.

It was time to leave.

Flicking the floodlights on, Brigit took stock of her surroundings and the distant trees. The enemy knightmares lay on the ground, swept aside by the tidal wave. Taking a step forward, she cursed softly as the knightmare slipped and was brought to the ground with a resounding crash. 

The wave was gone, leaving only a landscape coated with ice.

Besides her, the knightmare turned around and ejected. Then another. And another. 

The cold began to creep upon her and Brigit sighed as she moved the controls and the iced joints protested loudly. Her lesson was learnt. Ice and knightmares did not mix. It was time to eject.

Turning on the radio, she called to Art, "Requesting a retrieval team, at Sector Alpha Gamma Five Six. Over."

"We copy," Art replied. "I will call the retreat."

"A defeat?" she growled.

"No. We managed to crush most of the command structure and shred the base's defenses. Had we arrived a few minutes earlier, their hasty defenses could have been annihilated. It's a victory the Empire never dreamed possible. Over."

"Copy. Ejecting now."

Brigit closed her eyes as she felt her cockpit take to the air. It was a shame to lose the knightmare. Pulling out the detonator, she stared at it angrily. It had to be done. She pressed the button.

A fiery explosion engulfed her knightmare, erasing all evidence of her presence. The flames surged upwards, licking her cockpit. The concussive blast slammed her head back into the seat. The explosion had been far larger than expected.

An hour later, the retrieval team finally found her, covered by half a foot of snow. Their relief was obvious at finding the enigmatic Count alive and well. The weather may have been frigid enough to drive men to an early grave as the temperatures began to plummet even further, but her anger warmed her. That pompous officer had played her, snatched an absolute victory from her hand and anything less was a defeat.

He had defeated her. It was not to be.

And what rankled her the most? His defenses had been hasty. Weak. He hadn't taken her as a serious threat. She would crush him.

"Art!" she ordered, as she emerged from her cockpit and saw her young companion's relieved face, "Find the commander on the radio."

Not even blinking, he dutifully replied, "Of course sir. Do you wish me to eliminate him?"

"No. Find out everything you can first, and then capture him." He had humiliated her and she would teach him a lesson. He would beg for death, before she granted him that mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> -Sakuradite is highly explosive in its unrefined state although the how isn't very well explained. It's quite possible that impurities or so can survive past refinement and cause sakuradite to blow when not expected. With enough force, even refined sakuradite can be explosive as a certain earlier chapter hints at. Additionally, under certain conditions, refined sakuradite becomes immensely more volatile. Unfortunately, nobody in universe has really made that link although some are beginning to suspect a conneciton.
> 
> -Charles has a tremendous control over the Empire and efficient ways to deal with those he suspects are disloyal. This garners him a certain level of respect, which doesn't necessarily translate to the rest of the royal family. Is it perhaps stupid? Yes. But in any regime, there will be dissenters, greedy folks hoarding power, and people who think they're too important for an unfortunate accident to befall them.
> 
> -Brigit argues against Britania's class system, yet she still supports the oppression of the Numbers. They have been dehumanized for a long time and additionally, it is within the interest of those in powers, to make sure the two groups are at odds. As long as the Numbers and commoners consider each other as outsiders, they won't become allies and overthrow the government. Additionally: if they didn't hate each other, then the majority of the 712th would defect overnight. 
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN with your wonderful help in betaing this chapter. If anyone else wants to beta, just ask? :)
> 
> Hello there. I'm back! Covid related stress derailed my life, but life, while perhaps not on the track I hoped for, is again normal. It feels weird saying that, but this is the new normal. And with this plethora of new found time on my hands, we're back on a weekly update schedule. Ch. 24 is ready for edits, and Ch. 25 is about 1/3 done. 
> 
> Also, apologies for the delayed responses to comments. I love all of them. 
> 
> See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )


	24. Recall Your Sins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ I grieve for every Number’s soul lost in the fight for freedom. We yearn to be free of these chains bequeathed upon us by our conquerors. Our rash youth fight for this cause in the middle of the street. They sacrifice their lives as heroes for a cause. And yet, for having fought this fight over hundreds of years, the Number system still stands firm and strong. Our conquerors shake us off like the gnats we are. To them, we are a mild nuisance at best. And so, I must confront the truth, Britannia's might is unquestionable. For every soul that dives off the cliff for the fight of freedom, I shed a tear. Eventually, there would be no more Numbers willing to take the risk and my eyes might finally dry. Because Britannia continues to expand and the ranks of Numbers continues to be replenished, my tears continue to flow. _

_ —Cease to Shed Tears, an open letter by Ian Cort _

* * *

**Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

"Lelouch Lamperouge, come inside."

Lelouch cast a quick glance at his remaining squad mates and Roy's somber face, who gave him a small encouraging smile, before following the officer into the towering tent. There were consequences to liberally interpreting an order, but Lelouch couldn't bring himself to regret and he knew Roy didn't either. The squadron had survived and that was all that mattered.

Rolling his shoulders back, Lelouch lifted his chin and gazed upon the three officers sitting at the front. Lelouch had bought them time and these men had squandered it. He had heard the hushed whispers of the total casualties. An entire third of the division had been lost. The greatest one day loss within the division in over a decade. Barely a day had passed, but he could feel the weight of the absence of his comrades… or perhaps that was the agony within his muscles. The deaths could have been prevented.

"Private Lamperouge?" asked the officer, sitting at the middle of the table and not even bothering to look up from his pile of papers.

"Yes sir."

"Sit down on the bench to your right." His hand pointed at the lone worn down bench before him.

"Yes sir." Lelouch sat, his spine straight as a board, in contrast to the slouching officers. His eyes swept over them, noticing the bags under their eyes, hastily hidden beneath powdery makeup, cracking in the cold. 

The officer who had affirmed Lelouch's identity, laid down his stack of papers and cleared his throat. Wincing, he grabbed the small glass of water and took a long sip. "This is a preliminary hearing on the events occurring approximately between twenty-three hundred October seventeen and o'one hundred October eighteen. This hearing is being overseen by myself, Acting Major General Bludwig. To my left, is Second Lieutenant Sitwell and to my right, Second Lieutenant Foretescue. We will now begin the hearing of Private Lelouch Lamperouge of unit KY-7."

Finished, Lord Bludwig slouched over the desk and began shuffling through the various papers. The tent was silent except the sound of repairs and trucks thundering through the snow. The other two officers shifted and gazed at their superior. The one on the right cleared his throat

Lord Bludwig lowered his papers, glaring at the man. "If you will, Second Lieutenant?" 

Lelouch's lip twitched as Lord Bludwig went back to perusing his papers. Lord Fortescue's face reddened and he cleared his throat again and stood up, his chair scraping against the dirt floor. He opened his mouth, shut it again, and shuffled through the papers on his desk. When he finally straightened, a paper held victoriously in his hands, Lelouch struggled to keep his face straight at the sheer incompetence of the man before him.

"Private Lamperouge, will you recount what occurred on the night of October Seventeen?" Fortescue asked, his voice grating.

"My unit and I were on guard duty. I saw a burst of light and radioed it in sir."

Fortescue scowled. "You were the radio operator that night?"

"Yes. Unit KY-3 moved in to investigate and was gunned down."

Sharply, "And how do you know that?"

Second Lieutenant Sitwell cleaned his ear with his finger and stared at it sadly, clearly bored.

"We heard gunfire over the radio sir. KY-3-A reported they were surrounded by a surprise attack and divulged his intent to die in combat. I reported the incident to my superior Lieutenant Bugge. He ordered us to hold our position. That was the last order we received sir."

"Your unit did not hold your position Private. You disobeyed a direct order." Fortescue bared his teeth and leaned over the table. "Nor did you call in for additional orders. Your unit went black for the duration of the attack. Do you have anything to say Private?"

Second Lieutenant Sitwell sat a little straighter, piercing Lelouch with his own gaze.

Suppressing the urge to shift or look away, Lelouch replied, "We assumed radio communication to be compromised."

Papers slammed down on the desk and the Acting Major General barked, "I have heard enough. Arrest him. We will deal with his court martial later."

Two guards strode into the tent and freezing manacles clicked around his hands. Without any fanfare, he was dragged out of the tent and chained to one of many wooden posts in the ground. A lone guard sat on a crate, sharpening his knife, and observed his prisoners. A smatter of bullets burst through the air.

Then the soldiers returned to the field of stakes and prisoners, hauling a few more away.

His guts churned and bile rose in his throat.

He should have risked sneaking out to send a birthday present to Nunnally.

* * *

**Tsukuba, Area 11**

Suzaku wasn't sure what possessed him to help Chiba and Tohdoh-Sensei. His face was covered by a bandanna and he felt absolutely ridiculous, surrounded by older teenagers and undercover soldiers. Suzaku knew how to wield a sword, and a hurried lesson from Chiba ensured he knew how to fire a gun without rising injury to himself. But surrounded by those with more experience, he felt out of place: an imposter.

Who would accept a father murderer after all?

Stepping onto the street, Suzaku pulled his bandanna higher as the reeking stench of human excrement hit him. In comparison to Shinjuku and other areas within Tokyo, Tsukuba felt like a desolate wasteland and the people living there, as mere scavengers. Old apartment buildings not only showed damage from the invasion, but of a tornado that had swept through the area earlier in the year. A cat with skin stretched across its ribs, dashed over the street and scaled the crumbling wall. It was within this squalor that the team dispersed, intent on collecting more information on the lord that had claimed the territory: Earl Seymour.

Walking past garbage piled onto the street, Suzaku realized the sheer luck that had befallen the citizens of Tokyo to have Lord Ashford in charge. The man had turned on electricity and water in all the neighborhoods, even the ones housing Numbers. He kept the streets clean free of charge despite declaring taxes null for the year. It gave everyone the chance to settle down, but next year, they would have to scrounge up the money he would undoubtedly demand.

Suzaku had heard the heated debates of his countrymen raging against Britannia, Lord Ashford, and the injustice of it all. If only they could see the once proud city of Tsukuba, a city Suzaku's own father had invested time and effort into to create a scientific powerhouse, reduced to nothing. The once proud universities were now used to house the nobles or used to produce the very drug they were investigating.

Eyes peered through the cracks of boarded windows, and Suzaku shifted from side to side. He could feel the condemning gazes, but he had accepted the mission, and would stay here. This was for his people's sake. If he continued to protect the people of Japan, then perhaps his father's death wouldn't be meaningless. 

And maybe his mangled, bloody corpse with dead accusing eyes would finally stop haunting his dreams.

Maybe.

Suzaku pushed the doubt away and the nagging voice that asked him if his course of action was truly right. He was protecting his people and that was all that mattered. Everything had to be for someone else. The son of the Prime Minister was not allowed to be selfish. He couldn't ask his father to make time for him and play. His father had important work and important people to see. He couldn't ask his mother to comfort him after a nightmare, her own job as a legal consultant led her to staying up long past the sunset to read through important papers. 

An older soldier, Kudo, patted his shoulder, and they walked into what was once a small convenience store. The faded sign hung askew from the roof. Inside, people curled up on thin blankets, deathly pale. A woman, her face aged before its time, cried as she stumbled towards the door, only to be intercepted by someone else, whispering to her reassuringly and leading her back to her mat.

Kudo walked forward and held out their bag of medical supplies. "Kagome?"

A young woman squealed and threw herself forward, pulling him into a hug. "I can't believe you came, Kudo. I thought I would never see you again."

He huffed and returned the hug, before pushing the bag into her arms. "It looks like you need it Kagome-chan."

She looked inside and tears welled in her eyes. "This is for us?"

"Of course."

"Thank you!" she cried, bowing deeply.

The commotion drew the attention of others who crowed in delight at the bag of medical supplies and began to thank everyone, including Suzaku profusely. Suzaku edged backwards, as someone returned to bow, not sure how to deal with the awe in their eyes. They had just brought some simple medicine. Nothing special. Yet for these people, it was like they had hung the moon.

Kagome-san pulled them inside and brought them to a small office with a boarded up window and a ceiling fan missing a blade. She sat down on the office chair and watched them file in, a sad smile on her face. The door clicked shut. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Kudo was quick to assure, his hands up in the air. "We heard you needed the supplies."

"Nobody is that nice. Whatever your group is offering, we don't want it. We already bought protection. You aren't needed." 

Kudo seemed to wilt and he placed the bag on the desk. "Whatever happens. This is yours. All we ask that you use it for the people who need it. We don't have the resources to offer protection, but we have supplies and we're willing to trade for it."

She grabbed the bag and walked to the door, throwing it outside, before shutting it again. Smoothing her skirt, she sat down again. "You won't be getting it back."

"Of course not." 

"Good," she leaned back. "I admit it's good to know you're alive, but that was the past. I'm not your chan or anything anymore. I don't have that luxury. Understood Kudo-san?" 

He nodded.

"Now what do you want to trade," Kagome swept out her arms, "as you can see we're rather short on valuables."

"Information. We heard rumors regarding Earl Seymour… and a drug?"

Her face twisted in disgust. "That man is a blight on the human race along with that royal family."

Suzaku shifted as he remembered Nunnally's innocent and blinding smile. 

"You object boy?" Kagome barked.

"No," he lied. "I just wondered why."

Her eyes narrowed and without looking, she opened a drawer and plopped a vial onto the desk. "Because of this tar that runs through the veins of the people I love. It's got some fancy Greek name or something, but we call it Refrain," she looked away and whispered, "because they never do."

Kudo grabbed the vial and stared at the clear liquid glimmering innocently inside. "What does it do?"

"Makes all the pain go away," she hissed, "like every other shitty drug. But this one? It takes away your identity until all that is left is the past and the thought of the next dose.  Initially, an improper dose made you a dead man walking within a month. But then the Earl got smarter and watered it down. Before he had to calculate the proper dosage for his so-called employees, practically slaves, but now, with it out in the street, they come to him and are so desperate they accept anything for the next dose. Unlike before, they're functioning invalids now."

"But why risk it? Just for… a painkiller?"

"Everyone has lost someone and with it you have the chance to see them again. All the happy times..."

The words slipped away as Suzaku stared at the vial. His father... He wanted to say he was sorry. They were led outside, Kudo asking questions and Suzaku knew he should be listening, but all he could see was that vial and the possibility of seeing his father again.

A sharp slap brought him back to reality and he stared into Kudo's furious face. "Get your head in the game!"

"He's a liability. "Just one word and he wants to see. Some folks are like that with no control. They yearn to return to the past at the expense of all reason. He has to stay.",” Kagome said.

"No!" Suzaku shouted as Kudo turned away with the rest of the team. He had to protect his people... but if this drug made them happy... and he couldn't succumb to his desire. "I have to go."

"Why?" Kagome snarled, pulling on his ear. "You're not going to be able to walk into the den and see the vial, without thinking, maybe, maybe, a little bit won't hurt. And then you'll be out like a light and your friends will have to carry your dead body out and get killed in the process. Are you going to risk everything for a taste of happiness that you can never have?"

Would he be selfish?

He let them leave without another protest. Suzaku knew he didn't deserve repentance. He murdered his father. The only thing he wanted was to hug his father one last time and beg for forgiveness. He wasn't allowed to die, so he stayed, sulking on a mat, like all the other broken people around him.

An older man shuffled closer, his cracked teeth bursting into a smile as he looked onto Suzaku's face. "You're so sad."

The nurses rushed over, escorting the man back as he coughed. Suzaku closed his eyes as he leaned back and stared at the ceiling. Of course he was sad. His world had shattered and he had to keep living because he had promised. There was kindness out there. There was kindness in this room. Some people were kind, some people were cruel. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Once there had been a line dividing the two, but now, it was blurred to the point of uselessness. 

He rolled over and something poked into his abdomen. Scowling at the interruption, Suzaku reached under the mat and felt for the offending object. His hand closed around a vial.

* * *

**Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

As the sun began to set, Lelouch felt hands wrap around his arms and drag him back inside the tent. Half-frozen and starving, Lelouch didn’t have the energy to resist. Once again, he sat on the bench and faced the three judges. Only this time, there was something different. It took embarrassingly long for Lelouch to turn his head and stared at the man besides him: York.

York had the audacity to wink, before pointedly looking back at the judges, every fiber of his being screaming that of a loyal Britannian soldier. Not having the energy to ponder the man's game, Lelouch looked back at the judges. Their dismissive gaze ignited a spark of outrage deep within him. Lelouch had done nothing wrong beyond surviving. He had bought the camp time. He wouldn't be cowed by men who couldn't even bother sitting straight.

Lelouch sat up straight.

His frozen muscles screamed in protest and quivered, but he refused to slouch or show weakness. He was Lelouch Lamperouge and he would never give up.

"This trial is called to order," Lord Bludwig banged a gavel on the table. "We've all been introduced before, so let us skip the pointless pedantic introductions and rules. What matters simply is that Lelouch Lamperouge is accused of mutiny for disobeying direct orders and convincing others in his squadron to do the same. Second Lieutenant Fortescue—"

Said lord coughed and whispered into Lord Bludwig's ear.

"—My apologies," he drawled, "apparently I need to keep track of lunch time promotions now. Not that there isn't enough work to go around.  _ Major  _ Fortescue moves to add the charge of treason for consorting with the Count and impersonating a noble officer. Sergeant Malfoire will be your defense counsel. How do you plead Private?"

Distantly, a part of Lelouch wondered why people kept accusing him of treason. Another part wondered if the world was trying to tell him something about his father. There was of course only one way to plead, so he quietly rasped, "Not guilty."

"The defendant pleads not guilty. Second Lieutenant Sitwell will now commence with the questioning."

Second Lieutenant Sitwell stood slowly and walked before the table. "Lieutenant Colonel actually. Lunch time promotion."

Lord Bludwig glowered and waved his hand absently, before turning back to his papers.

"Private Lamperouge, do you deny disobeying a direct order to hold your position?"

Lelouch spared a quick glance at York who sat idly by. "No sir."

"Yet, you plead not guilty?"

It was hard to think with a churning stomach and the pain of slowly thawing limbs. His mouth dried as he searched for the appropriate answer.

York calmly said, "The charge is mutiny Lieutenant Colonel, not insubordination.”

The officer sneered. "Let the defendant speak, Sergeant Malfoire."

"Of course Lieutenant Colonel. It is just my job to make sure the  _ truth _ is known."

Lelouch's fingernails bit into his skin and his heart began to beat a little faster. Truth. A dangerous thing and much too dangerous to be revealed in a tent where hundreds of spying ears could hear. 

He had to think.

To speak.

Feeling as if he was looking through a long tunnel, detached from his body except by fragile puppet strings, his head turned and a confident smile crept onto his face. The words were his, yet belonged to a distant stranger. "I will only plead guilty to insubordination Lieutenant Colonel."

"Private Doe and Private Sullivan abandoned the guard post at the same time. Why do you imagine that is?"

"A desire to live perhaps. I did not command or ask them to join me."

Major Fortescue stood up abruptly. "Cease this farce of questioning Lord Sitwell. Mutiny and insubordination are irrelevant. He collaborated with the enemy and is a traitor."

Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell stormed over to his coworker. "Rules and regulations exist for a reason. I have proof of mutiny, yet you would desire to prosecute this boy on hearsay."

"And you cling to the rules as if they were your mother's skirt. Treason is of greater importance and thus should be tried first."

"And sentence him to death."

"Yes!" Major Fortescue yelled as he leaned over the table and brought his fists down with a slam. "Forthwith. Traitors to the crown are a waste of space."

"And rob us of the opportunity to hear the boy's testimony. But perhaps that is what you desire. Worried that it will reveal some misappropriations of funds on your part? Again?"

"You insult my honor! Such baseless accusations will not be toler—"

"—Enough!" shouted Lord Bludwig. "You two will cease your pointless squabbling. You got promoted." He turned and glared at the two. "Big deal! Get over it! I for one would like to actually sleep for once. So just get this over with."

Lord Bludwig sat down with a thud and glanced at the water slowly dripping down from the table. "And someone get me a new glass of water!"

York stood up, half bowing, he calmly asked, "May I offer a suggestion?"

"Another suggestion Malfoire? You're a soldier, not an adviser." He massaged his temple. "Well bloody get it out will you? I don't have time to write your obstinate ass up for insubordination."

York's answering grin was terrifying. "I suggest that I simply question the defendant and lay out the facts of the case for expediency's sake. The honorable Major and Lieutenant Colonel may ask clarifying questions afterwards. Would you find this agreeable?"

Lord Bludwig accepted the glass of water brought in and stared at it mournfully. "Just get this over with."

"Of course my lord." York bowed and turned to Lelouch. "What compelled you to head out into the forest in the middle of the night and abandon the safety of the guard post?"

The officers twitched at the wordings, but didn't interrupt.

Forcing his voice to remain level and clear as possible, despite the scratchiness in the back of his throat, Lelouch answered, "After hearing our comrades die, we were worried that doing nothing would lead to defeat. Unit KY-3 was composed of our seniors and whatever had taken them out, would easily have destroyed our own squad. I sought to gather more information so we could find a weakness in the enemy's forces."

"Why didn't you extinguish your light like the other squadrons on guard duty?"

Lelouch scowled bitterly. "Given the snowstorm, neither our squadron or the enemy had any visibility. Lieutenant Bugge knew our lantern was on, turning it off would have removed any tactical advantage he had."

York nodded and turned back to the officers. "I wish to reiterate, as we saw through the numerous testimonies today, every other squadron turned off their lantern after hearing unit KY-3 fall. Lieutenant Bugge, being unaware of the fact, attempted to prepare a defensive movement accounting for lit lanterns. If the lantern had been turned off, the scarce forces he was able to muster would have been completely useless."

Major Fortescue crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Be that as it may, he still broke orders. Following one order, does not excuse the Private's numerous other offenses."

"If memory serves me correctly, we let the other units off with a slap on the wrist. And their blunder had much greater potential consequences, Major."

Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell nodded and leaned forward. "Considering the catastrophic losses we suffered Sergeant Malfoire, your argument is inadequate and unfortunately, with Lieutenant Bugge's passing, you have no proof that Private Lamperouge’s actions had a positive impact. Lieutenant Bugge may have been perfectly aware that the other squadrons had extinguished their lamps"

“So you claim instead that Lieutenant Bugge was inadequate and thus lost his life. Either Private Lamperouge’s offence was minor and prevented casualties or Lord Bugge was a moron.”

The other lords narrowed their eyes in anger at York’s blatant mockery and Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell snarled, “Lord Bugge was an honorable man. His conduct is not being questioned today.”

York simply gave a careless shrug. "I just wish for you to ponder this as we continue. Private Lamperouge, why did you take the radio with you?"

"If I got lost, it would have been the only way to call for help. If I found any information of great importance, I could warn Lieutenant Bugge."

Nodding, York interrupted, "But you never contacted Lieutenant Bugge."

"No. I was hailed by a man professing to be a loyal civilian who had stumbled onto a soldier suffering from frostbite." Lelouch paused as he noticed the subtle straightening of their backs at his more formal language. "I presumed he was with the attackers and requested his location, under the guise of looking to rescue my comrade."

Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell tapped his finger on the table. "And what of the claims that a Britannian officer was conferring with this man?"

Major Fortescue snorted. "You impersonated nobility to communicate with the enemy. No other proof of treason is needed."

"Please my lord," York said, "You are being hasty."

Lelouch smirked. "Major. Do you think of me as a noble now?"

"Of course not! A peasant such as yourself could never hope to compare."

"But for the uneducated, a noble is simply well spoken. It is obvious I am not a noble," Lelouch paused as he considered his next words with disgust, "Numbers, uneducated as they are, could not hope to distinguish between a commoner, such as myself, and a noble officer of great renown. And those who rebel against the Empire are of similar mental fortitude, the difference between us is indecipherable, since we rank so highly above."

At the sharp look from Lord Bludwig, Lelouch pressed his lips together. Perhaps his speech, pandering to their egos, had been a bit over the top. Lord Bludwig shook his head and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, before tidying his papers and setting them to the side.

Lord Bludwig cleared his throat. "Did you ever claim to be an officer?"

"No sir."

"As no one can remember who the officer claimed to be, it was clearly a heat in the moment assumption. It would behoove of us to teach our soldiers to confirm any so-called officer's identity before making assumptions. And what, Private Lamperouge, did you, Private Sullivan, and Private Doe do next?"

Lelouch closed his eyes, recollecting the moments wandering through the dark and the sudden chaos at finding the Count's army. "I sought to buy time as we headed to the river, so I continued to keep in radio contact with the Count. We stumbled across the Crows in the midst of the forest and the enemy knightmare. Henry, Private Sullivan, slipped away to collect more information. I asked Alex to act as a sniper, hoping to sow confusion. At this time, the Count called my bluff and his forces prepared to leave." 

He had been sitting there in the tree, utterly alone, armed only with a gun and a radio, as the army began to march to the guard post. At the small cough from the table, Lelouch refocused and continued, "I am unfortunately not the best shot, even in the best of weather, so I decided to move in closer. Most of their forces were centered in the front, so I followed along the rear. Fortunately, the trees impeded the movement of their heavy artillery and they hadn't headed back to the river where they would have had an easier time maneuvering. Given this... the tanks began to lag behind with their equipment."

Crouched behind a tree with his heart hammering in his ears, Lelouch had watched them pass by and sought an opportunity. Masked in darkness, he had seen a glowing sakuradite cell and an old memory tingled. The sakuradite traps in Japan had yielded massive explosions, far beyond what he had thought possible. The cause of which, he was still unsure of. Still, the energy fillers were filled with sakuradite cells and they had been just sitting there under the falling snow.

"I saw the energy fillers on a snowmobile following the rear." The man driving it had been old with wrinkles by his eyes. His body had fallen to the ground with a heavy thump and the blood first rushed from his head onto the pristine snow. Then the blood flowed like cold chocolate syrup, until all that there was left was a crusty remain. Perhaps the man hadn't died, but the cold would have robbed that man of any chance of survival. The old unnamed man in the snow was Lelouch's third. 

A lump in his throat, Lelouch continued. "I commandeered the snowmobile. And used my armband to fix the throttle. It raced forward and crashed into a tank's rear."

The heat of the explosion had blistered Lelouch's face and the hot steam had physically thrown him back and unthawed his frozen toes. Fortunately, he had managed to hold on his gun despite having the wind knocked out of him and stared up at the trees illuminated by the dying flames.

"The resulting explosion took out a significant portion of the Count's forces and caused panic in their ranks. Private Doe took that as a signal to begin firing."

"And what was Private Sullivan doing at this time?"

Henry had rushed over to his aide, hauling him onto a snowmobile and pressing a cloth against the bleeding cut on his brow. Lelouch remembered the snowmobile vibrating beneath them as Henry carried him to safety and leaned him against a tree. A heating pad had been pressed into his hands, and Henry rushed away.

"Henry stole a snowmobile and used it to fire on the enemy, causing more panic."

Hearing the mayhem, Lelouch had finally found the strength to fill his lungs with air and pulled out the radio, not able to resist making one last final taunt. Upon reflection, it perhaps hadn't been a wise decision, but he had been too high on adrenaline to care. He had waited there, sitting against the tree, until Henry had returned.

"The Count stormed ahead, faster than we could keep up. Henry, Alex, and I regrouped, before marching back to camp. By the time we returned, the Crows were beginning to retreat," Lelouch finished and relaxed, his muscles screaming in agony.

York took a small step forward, drawing the attention of the officers. "Acting Major General, if I may direct your attention to the intelligence report on your desk?"

Flipping through the papers, Lord Bludwig pulled out the paper and leaned back, his forehead scrunching as he read through it. Placing it down on the desk again, he looked to his sides and grimaced. "Sergeant Malfoire. We're going to have a talk this evening. But as the intelligence analysis supports Sergeant Malfoire's own assertion, that squadron KY-7's decision to keep the lantern on, saved us from a total defeat."

"And what of the charges sir?" Major Fortescue asked. "He admitted to consorting with a terrorist."

"All charges of treason and mutiny will be dismissed. Private Doe and Sullivan's testimony corroborates that they followed Private Lamperouge of their own volition. Private Lamperouge is correct that leaving their post had no possible negative ramifications on the battle. The fact remains that Private Lamperouge disobeyed a direct order, so he will be charged with insubordination and have his pay docked for the month."

Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell leaned back, popped a breath mint, and closed his eyes.

Major Fortescue protested vehemently.

The gavel struck the desk once again, cutting through Major Fortescue's objections and jolting Lieutenant Colonel Sitwell awake. Lord Bludwig gently lay the gavel on the table. "If you insist that Private Lamperouge is such a loose cannon, you may oversee him yourself, Major. As it is, our entire command structure has been obliterated and I have enough folks breathing down my neck because it is apparently all my responsibility now. Corporal Lamperouge seems to be a fine upstanding Britannian citizen. Young as he is, a lack of discipline is to be expected. So teach him yourself and stop complaining to me about it."

"Sir?" Lelouch asked as Major Fortescue spluttered incoherently. 

Lord Bludwig glowered. "Yes you heard that right. You're being promoted! Now get out of my sight. I wasted enough time on you. And tell somebody I need my coffee. Black. Not the watered down swill."

"Thank you sir." Lelouch bowed and turned around before Lord Bludwig could change his mind.

York caught his arm and whispered, "My office at o'five-hundred tomorrow morning."

"Yes sir." Lelouch slipped away, knowing he could no longer avoid York. If he did, the man would physically drag him to his office. For now, he would celebrate his survival. 

He stepped out of the tent.

A bone crushing hug followed. Roy smiled and ruffled Lelouch's hair, relief clear in his eyes. Alex stepped back, before pulling Lelouch into another hug. This time, Lelouch returned it. Frederick just laughed and joined the group hug, followed by Edgar, who pulled in Roy. Henry, standing awkwardly at the side, finally relented and patted Lelouch on the shoulder.

"I'm fine guys," Lelouch said as he disentangled himself, stepped back, and straightened his uniform. "I'm not in trouble, just a slap on the wrist."

"We heard," Alex said, "Tents are not meant to keep stuff secret. But seriously, Sergeant Malfoire was kicking ass today. He was acting as everyone's counsel. I want to be him when I grow up. He literally knows everything."

"It's good to see you, was half worried we'd never see you after the night. And then the explosions. Should've called you Pyro-boy."

"It's straightforward," Lelouch protested, "It's not like I want to set things on fire."

Edgar rolled his eyes and pushed a large piece of bread into his hands. "We'll need to clean that head wound of yours. Henry did a surprisingly decent job. Any blurriness to your vision?"

Swallowing a half-chewed piece of bread, Lelouch reached up to touch his forehead and felt the rough scab, which began to itch furiously. "I didn't even notice."

"Of course you didn't." Edgar glanced around and pulled another chunk of bread from beneath his coat. "You haven't eaten all day. Now sit. It's a wonder you can even stand."

Frederick ignored Lelouch's protests, as he helped guide Lelouch to a fallen tree. Once seated, the strength in his legs fled and his eyelids fluttered heavily. Lelouch took another bite of the bread and drank eagerly from the offered flask of water.

"Don't ever contact a terrorist again," Roy began to scold. "I damn near had a heart attack when they said they were charging you with treason. They should've charged me. I was the one to tell you to go out."

"Of course they didn't," the familiar voice of Pablo interrupted as he walked up to the gathered squadron. With an easy smile, he held out a paper bag. "I have cookies. Although, rumor has it, Lelouch deserves them the most."

Lelouch accepted them without a word, too tired to talk. The chocolate melted on his tongue and his eyes felt a little lighter while the headache slowly eased. 

Crossing his arms, Roy asked, "What do you mean 'of course they didn't? Clearly, I was at fault." 

"You're rich," Pablo shot back as he settled on the log. "If they try to charge you, your family would hear and bring it to a proper court with real lawyers. Not that informal thing."

Edgar reached into the bag and grabbed a cookie. "Informal? They were executing folks all day."

"Desertion," Pablo explained, his face bitter, "an automatic death sentence for any Honorary Britannian. All of you would at least have had the chance to defend yourself. Still, they really wanted to pin Lelouch. Guess the blaming the Numbers excuse wasn't working any more in the capital. If they could have argued that a Britannian was at fault, then they don't have to worry about making us look too smart."

Lelouch took another cookie and closed his eyes. Food was bliss. "How did your squadron do?"

Pablo looked away. "Rodri died caught up in the knightmare fight. One minute he was there, and the next the knightmares were on top of him. Sergey got shot in the cross-fire. And Manuel, he got shot in the leg. Crippled, so his family won't see a cent. But, Lelouch, a letter arrived for you in the mail."

"Crap," Lelouch muttered as he grabbed the letter and tore it open. It was from his sister.

"What?"

"All my pay is being docked. How am I supposed to get her a birthday present?"

The squadron laughed at his plight and offered to sponsor him. Lelouch smiled softly, they were truly the best. If only he knew how to get Nunnally's birthday present now. Looking back into the letter, he pulled out a second sheet, which was for Pablo. Letting the conversation wash over him, Lelouch pulled out a pencil and tore off a scrap piece of paper from the cookie bag and began to transcribe the letter.

As Pablo began to say his goodbyes, Lelouch shoved the scrap of paper into his hand and whispered, "As promised."

Pablo's eyes widened in understanding and clapped Lelouch on the back and leaned to whisper: "Day after tomorrow, sunset, by the mess hall. I'll help you find something for your sister."

* * *

**Tsukuba, Area 11**

Reuben stared out of the helicopter at the city below him. The buildings were in disrepair, yet the clean layout of the street held strong. He could see the various compounds of what had once been a proud university of cutting edge research. This had been Japan's city of knowledge, and now... Now there was nothing left behind. Earl Seymour had seized the land to leech its inhabitants dry. There was no concern for the subtle art of economics, just brutal taxation.

Intellectually, he understood that not every lord had such monetary resources in reserve that they could afford to skip taxes for a year. Reuben had heard the murmurings in court of him being too soft hearted. A part of him had agreed and wondered if a show of strength might better benefit him in the long run, but looking down at the destitute remains of a once strong city, he felt as if his decision had been the right one. 

There would be consequences for appearing weak from increased terrorism, but he couldn't ignore the human plight. The Numbers bled red like everyone. they were still human and as such, deserved to live. Already in the city below him, he could see buildings being torn down or refurbished for Lord Seymour's lavish estate. To the Earl, the Numbers were simply in the way of development.

The helicopter began to descend to the central building and Reuben spared a glance at Thomas sitting impassively and his new intern, Naoto Kouzuki, or as he was officially known, Nathan Walker, gripping the seat with skeleton fingers. It reminded him of Milly and her own fear of heights. His mouth opened to offer some reassurance, before he shut it again, awkwardness befalling him. The boy was not his granddaughter, but a half-Number. He would undoubtedly see Reuben's actions condescending.

The helicopter landed and Thomas moved first, opening the door for Reuben. Nathan trailed afterwards. Ahead, he could see the portly Earl Seymour and a collection of servants wait passively.

The Earl stepped forward. "Margrave Ashford. It is an honor to meet you. You didn't need to bother yourself with flying out here for a simple business deal."

Tilting his head at the man, Reuben continued to walk forward, not waiting for Earl Seymour to lead. "I find in-person meetings help foster better business relationships."

"That is truly cunning. Of course, what else is to be expected of someone who has the Emperor's favor. Please, allow me to show you around our humble estate. A man of your talents will surely appreciate the labs we have established. In a few years, they will be the envy of the Empire."

Reuben forced a cordial smile. He loathed business meetings. "That would be wonderful. I admit I have some fondness for labs."

"Then I must show you our clean room in action. We are already sub-contracting knightmare parts. The Empire just cannot have enough, if you catch my drift. But what I truly hold dear, is our chemistry labs. None can compare." Lord Seymour led them into a red sitting room, with opulent golden mirrors on the far side. "May I offer some refreshments before the tour?"

"Yes please. A glass of water for my companions."

Lord Seymour snarled at a Number absently cleaning the mirror in the far corner of the room. "You heard the Margrave! Refreshments. Fetch me one of the vintage bottles." He turned around and seated himself in a leather armchair. "Now what business opportunities did you have in mind? I dabble in nearly everything, so surely we will find something befitting your palette."

Reuben sat down and watched Thomas and Nathan move to the far corner of the room from the corner of his eyes. "My import needs are currently being met. It is exports that I wish to discuss tonight, among a few other issues."

"Exports?" Earl Seymour raised a single manicured eyebrow and grabbed the wine glass from the servant girl returning. "I admit, I'm not sure how I can help you Lord Ashford. Exports... I prefer being self reliant and don't find myself in need of much. And while I know you're sitting on a rather large amount of grain, I'm afraid that I cannot take it off your hands. My dietary needs are more than being met. My doctor has been telling me that I need to reduce the number of pastries. Alas, no more grain imports for me."

The girl flinched as Reuben moved to grab his own wine glass and he raised it to his lips, to over his frown. "Pastries are the greatest weakness of all lords, I must say."

Lord Seymour threw back his head and laughed. "I like you. Sometimes I say the French ought to focus on pastry production. Not me mind you, but quite a few friends of mine would open their doors for an endless supply of croissants, madeleines, and macaroons. Truly the greatest threat to Britannia is foreign food. We must hurry and conquer China. I desperately am in need of a Chinese chef. But now I feel awful, surely there is something I can do for you?"

Reuben swirled the bloody wine gently. "I have been hearing some rather troubling rumors. Perhaps you could put my mind at ease and settle them?"

Earl Seymour clutched his heart. "Rumors? Me? My wife knows about my... dalliances on the side. And she has her own suite of gentlemen to entertain her. She provided me with a son and that's all I concern myself with. Do you want to see pictures?" Not awaiting a response, he got up and wandered over to the cabinet to pull out a photo album. "Little Jon is sooo adorable. I swear he grows cuter every minute. But the media, they love to harp on my infidelity. Makes good news, but it's all rather simpler, I just enjoy fine things."

"If only it were that benign," Reuben replied and his eyes darted over to Thomas, standing ready as always. He couldn't find himself to trust the other lord and his well practiced routine. "There are concerns regarding health in your city."

"Bah, you mean the Numbers? They love to exaggerate, the worthless things they are. Like take that one over there. Always trembling, but never finishes the job. Cute though, so I'm rather partial towards keeping her. Unless you want to give her a try?"

Reuben glanced at the young girl, who could barely be older than fourteen and suppressed a shudder. It seemed that the rumors might have been more well founded than he initially thought... and perhaps even greater sins to be discovered behind the curtain of wealth. "My employees serve me quite well. Rumors say your Numbers collapse on the street and by the time they hit the ground, they're dead."

"It hardly concerns me. They can work and receive food. If their national pride is too much, then let them die in the street. It's not as if any Britannian would even set foot in there."

"You leave the dead out in the open?" Reuben asked aghast. Hundreds of potential reasons flew through his mind as to why that would be a terrible idea, yet he knew they wouldn't sway the man before him.

"It hardly matters," Earl Seymour replied, "Eventually, the corpses vanish. Even I admit that a pile of corpses on my streets would be most unseemly. There is nothing to worry health wise. The problems of those creatures don't concern us."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nathan take a half angry step forward. This wasn't how Reuben had wanted to acclimate the boy to working beneath him. Thomas inched a little closer, wary of the boiling kettle.

"Numbers do not fall dead on their own Lord Seymour. And whatever ails your Numbers may soon travel to the Britannain citizens. Then we will have a problem on our hands. I refused to have such an issue arise in my city. It is disastrous for the economy."

"There is no need to concern yourself Lord Ashford. It is a simple weakness in the Numbers that leads to such situations."

"You know the cause?" Reuben accused.

The man grimaced, drained his wine, and ordered the girl to bring him a refill. "Let me assure you Lord Ashford. There is no need for concern. I will handle it and those rumors will disperse. It's just a smear campaign concocted by my rivals. You understand Lord Ashford? I have heard you are experiencing similar difficulties. I can help you smooth over those bumps."

Reuben set the unfinished wine down on the side table and glanced at the girl, head bowed, scurrying back into the room with a pitcher for a refill. Her hands trembled as she poured the wine and then she sat on the ground, frozen, besides a small twitch in the foot. Testing a theory, Rueben shifted in his seat and knocked down the wine glass. It shattered on the floor.

"My sincere apologies," Reuben said as he pulled out a handkerchief to dab the dripping red pearls. "I'm afraid that old age has made me rather clumsy."

Mindless of the shards, the girl knelt besides his chair to clean the mess. He could see small rivulets of blood winding down her knees and hand, yet she did not react. When she looked up briefly, her dilated pupils confirmed his suspicions: drugs.

Turning back to Seymour, Reuben asked, "In my experience, people try to reduce the number of drugged employees. If this is the status-quo here among the Numbers, which I suspect to be true, then we will have an issue."

Seymour snarled. "An issue? This is the only way they can be of some use. So obstinate these Numbers, not understanding that I am their better and refusing orders. You, who spare the whip and coddle them, have no room to speak. Mark my words, the Numbers will take advantage of your weakness and rise up. I am under no such delusions."

Reuben's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Many of your employees are indentured. Legally, a drugged person, Number or otherwise, cannot give consent. If the other rumors of you creating unspeakables are true as well, the Emperor will be most displeased. I wish you the best of luck with the upcoming investigation.”

Seymour stood up, snarling, "You dare accuse me within my own home!"

Thomas intercepted the frothing lord, before he had a chance to reach Reuben. The relaxed grip on the gun at Thomas's side, was enough to stop the lord in his tracks.

"You will regret this Ashford. I have powerful friends." Seymour waited for a moment and turned on his heels, walking out. "You may escort yourself out. You're no longer welcome here."

"My lord?" Nathan whispered.

"Yes Nathan?" Reuben replied as he led the young servant girl to the side and began to remove the shards of glass entrenched in her skin. Up close, he could see various other bruises, slowly fading, and long scratches. In the inside of her elbow, he spotted the injection marks and Reuben pursed his lips tightly. His kindness now, would not save her from future abuse. The justice system would move too slowly and given the type of man Seymour had revealed himself to be, there was a good chance an unfortunate accident would befall her and the other Numbers.

"Lord Seymour will be destroying evidence, won't he?"

Perhaps Reuben had been too hasty, caught up in unveiling human depravity. He should have waited, not revealed his hand. He looked at the girl and her face, obscured by a curtain of black hair. He swallowed and closed his eyes. She was going to die. "Yes."

"Do you have a plan?"

Even pushed by deadlines, Reuben's work in his labs had been a methodical affair. The human element never felt important enough to consider. Someone could lie as much as they wished, but the results would reveal the truth. Here, playing by the rules, meant losing. "I'll figure it out."

"But you," Nathan spluttered, "You're you! You threw all my dad's planning in his face. You always have a plan! You always know what to do! You're never surprised and always act like you're better."

The naive optimism of youth. "I know. But I'm not indefectible... I played within the confines of the rules... but Seymour has no such need."

"Then stop playing by the stupid rules. Britannia ruined everything and that was within your stupid rules."

Glancing at Thomas, standing idly by, but surely listening, Reuben considered the Emperor's potential displeasure. He couldn't break the rules and cast himself to the wolves. They would tear Milly apart.

"That's it?" Nathan shouted, taking a step forward. "And I thought maybe, maybe there was something redeemable. about you"

"You need to learn to hold your tongue," Reuben growled.

"Or what you'll kill me? Just like Seymour. You're all the same. Obsessed with power over others. You just have a better nice face. After all, how many lives have your inventions stolen?"

Thomas inched forward, focused on Nathan, and ready to intervene if necessary. It was glancing at Thomas's hard eyes, and the way his hand slipped too eagerly to the gun by his side, that finally stemmed Reuben's anger. He was furious, but furious at himself. Britannia wasn't perfect. He had known it for a long time and even seen it first hand in Kagoshima. Yet, he had done nothing. Changed nothing. Because Britannia was always right and Reuben believed in the system. It might be slow and corrupt, but justice would prevail.

The girl continued to absently clean the spilled wine, her arms trembling from fear or drugs. There would be no justice for her... or the countless others in the same position.

She was Milly's age.

Exhaling, Reuben said, "You're right."

Nathan froze.

"I turned a blind eye because it was easy." He gingerly grabbed the shaking girl's arm. She froze in his grip and part of his heart howled in grief. How many, just like her, had he condemned to death with his overzealousness? "I failed. It will happen again. But if I can save at least one person from my mistakes, I will."

Reuben lifted her too light body into the air. Already plans and contingencies were battering his skull. Technically, it was kidnapping, an illegal act. If his opponent played in the mud, should he stoop to their level? Order and society itself relied on an adherence to the rules. The system had served them well for ages and protected the citizens of Britannia from the prowling E.U. But by blindly adhering to the law, he would allow a greater injustice to pass.

The ramifications of Reuben's actions could wait until they slipped out of the viper's den unharmed. Reuben was simply following the spirit of the law. The churning in his gut mildly eased, Reuben cradled the child and walked to the door. "Legally, I may not win against Seymour. But, regardless, I will win."

And retribution was a pillar supporting Britannia's might. Reuben could move forward without concern. He was just upholding tradition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> -The trial was not a proper trial. Instead, it was a military court intended for internal affairs. It's unclear whether Code Geass's Britannia tries people in military or civilian court. Suzaku is a special case with his show trial, but it feels like it was more of civilian court. Interestingly, I discovered that Japan's judicial system is quite different from the U.S. The assumption of innocent until guilty is not true in practice there. I'd assume this is valid within the Code Geass universe as well... simply because it is a great way for dictatorships to function. The one thing I'm still not sure on is how Britannia judges guilt. Different legal systems have different takes. In the U.S, for example, you can be guilty of a breaking a law that you don't know exists or cannot understand. (I suspect this comes up quite often with taxes) This has lead to the necessity of Atkins V. Virginia where the supreme court ruled that it was unconstitutional to execute people with mental retardation. 
> 
> -Refrain is mentioned in canon, but never fully explored. It's illegal, yet Suzaku used it to threaten Kallen. I'm wondering if refrain's production is therefore a military venture in enhanced interrogation (aka: torture). There's a lot of wiggle
> 
> -There was an actual tornado in Tsukuba, Japan in 2012. 
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.
> 
> Personally this was one of my favorite chapters to write, so I hope everyone enjoyed it just as much. As always, I'm open to constructive criticism and love hearing your thoughts. Reviews make my day. :) Stay safe everyone!
> 
> See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )


	25. Royal Jewels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ Britannia has proven themselves unshakable, unconquerable, and unstoppable. There are only two ways to stem the flow of tears and end the cycle of grief. The first, is for Britannia to finish its conquest of the world. With no new Numbers to replace the youth lost, the fighting will cease. I do not know if I will see that day before the grim reaper graces my doorstep. I do not know whether my beautiful grandchildren will be alive to witness the occasion, or even if such an event will occur within the life of our star. History states that empires fall, and while my heart rejoices at the possibility, there's a dark insidious worry as well. When an Empire falls, so do its people. I cannot hope that such a cataclysm would allow the Numbers to thrive afterwards and not pull us down with even heavier chains of bondage. It is for this reason, I cannot wait. Waiting is like holding penicillin in my hand and sitting next to a gravely ill man, but refusing to give it to him, for perhaps, he will get better on his own. The reality is that my tears will never cease unless change is brought about. _

_ The second option is more radical than the first, but I will argue for it regardless. Others may call me a traitor to my people, but I will follow my heart and protect the dear lives and happiness of my grandchildren. The endless and bloody fight for freedom is fruitless and only brings more suffering and pain to our community. Britannia's right to govern relies on bringing happiness to the greatest number of its citizens. All actions, after all, are undertaken to maximize happiness and minimize suffering. Because we suffer, we pursue the goal of freedom and have equated it with happiness. The notion that freedom equals happiness is a misguided belief that only brings more suffering.  _

_ —Cease to Shed Tears, an open letter by Ian Cort _

* * *

**Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area 2**

Sheltered by the tent from the young morning rays, Lelouch sat and patiently waited for York. His hands felt clammy in the brisk winter air and his breath misted in the air before him. Why did it always have to be York? He had no problem facing nobles… or even arguing with his father. But York kept him off balance despite refraining from violence. 

Lelouch could still remember York breaking his finger and the bursting sharp strike of pain. Every time York approached, his finger throbbed and his heart rate rose. York knew Lelouch was a prince... and surely wouldn't do anything. That was what logic dictated, but Lelouch still felt uncertain... and afraid. 

The threat York presented was simply too real and ever too present. If only he could know what the man wanted... but York played his cards close to his chest and Lelouch was none the wiser. Biting at his cracking lip, Lelouch flinched as boots crushed snow outside of the tent. York was there.

"Ah, Lelouch. How are you? Truly some exciting times you have lived through, are they not?" York drawled. "And Alex. Definitely a keeper that boy. I can see why you keep him close."

"Thank you," Lelouch ground out. "Alex is an important member of my squad."

York sat down on the other side of the desk. Pulling out an electric kettle, he set it down, and poured himself a cup of boiling water. "Tea?"

"No thank you."

Shrugging, York deposited a tea bag and they both waited in silence as red swirls colored the water. York gently blew on it and grimaced. "I miss good tea. Now boy, how has your search been going? Quite some time has passed, I hope you have something to report."

His tongue tasted iron. "I'm close. I believe Pablo intends to show me where... contraband can be acquired."

"But you don't know where yet?"

"No."

York leaned back. "And truly, considering your impressive victory against the Count, I would have imagined this to be child’s play for you. Or perhaps...." He leaned across the table. "Maybe you're getting attached. I did tell you they will not resist the temptation to slit your throat if they discovered the truth. Or have you forgotten?"

The statement felt too extreme, but Lelouch knew there was a real danger, so he dipped his head. "I remember, sir."

"Yet you continue to risk your identity. A noble accent? Although I must commend your foresight to use an Eastern one, but really, how long do you expect this lie of yours to last? Sooner or later, it will come out and I'm thinking sooner with all the clues you carelessly dispense."

His chest felt tight. "I will be more careful, sir."

York blinked lazily. "Instincts will only get you so far... and you, you rely too much on those instincts of yours. And in the next conflict, because there will be another one, you will step up again, and throw caution to the wind."

"I would have died sir," Lelouch hissed. "I imagine that is worse for you."

He laughed. "Yes. It would be. Your mother was quite clear. But life is nothing without a little danger. Had you been smart, you would have turned off the lamp, and let the army slip by you in the darkness without risking your life. Then there would be no officers watching you and no threat to this life of obscurity you have chosen."

A third of the division dead. Even with Lelouch's desperate plan. The cook: an older man with a bad leg, but somehow capable, of making even the most unappetizing slob edible. A young boy from Area Eight who constantly stuttered but diligently helped unload the mail every day. The Corporal who could always be seen with a squirrel or two trailing after him. They were all dead.

"I can't let people die. Not when I can save them."

York's gaze held no mercy. "You will not save everyone boy. You may even try and kill more with your orders. Their lives have no worth compared to yours. You let your mind rot away by aiding simpletons who will betray you."

"It is the right thing to do," Lelouch snarled back. "Who stands by and lets others die? All our blood spills red on the battlefield. There is no difference between the corpse of a Britannian and a Number. I would fail in my duty as a human by standing by."

York leaned even closer and his breath condensed in the air between them. "I thought we agreed on no lies, Lelouch."

Why was his heart hammering? Lelouch leaned away. "It is the truth."

Walking around the table, York's hand settled on his shoulder and his breath tickled Lelouch's ear. "Don't be naive,  _ Your Highness. _ These sentiments you spout are the same ones held by our enemies and  _ you...  _ you cannot be a traitor. Do you even know the history of your family?"

Lelouch knew. He knew of all the assassinations. The stories of blood running down steps. It was the legacy of the Britannias and the Emperor... his father had played the game best of all. But what York was implying... It couldn't be true... and yet, Lelouch couldn't help but wonder. He was his father’s son, surely he wouldn't? But that hadn't saved Empress Margret after she was caught plotting treason. Her execution... had been a public spectacle devoid of a clean death. The Emperor had been clear to set an example. 

No one was safe from the Emperor's justice.

Not even family.

"I'm aware," he whispered.

York moved out of his field of view and Lelouch's chest tightened more. Two hands firmly settled on his shoulders and nails dug in. A breath warmed Lelouch's ear. York whispered, "And if you die my little prince, what will your father do?"

There would be a public funeral and the Emperor would read off the teleprompter and his mother publicly grieved. Nunnally... she would be all alone. And if Lelouch wasn't there, Nunnally would be ripped away from Ashford Academy and the new friends she had found. He couldn't protect her, if he was dead. But he refused to let his squadron die. 

"What show do you think the Emperor will put on? Because once you're dead, this secret of yours will be out, and it will spill on the front page of every news site in Britannia. It will even cross the sea. The Commoner Prince, the headlines will say, but what will follow? Appearances must be kept after all. And for every moment you spend here, the image of royalty cracks a little more."

Lelouch's heart hammered. His hands shook as he set them down on the table. Trapped. That man's legacy always hung like a dark cloud around him. Nothing could ever be innocent. What would his squadron think if they ever discovered the truth? They were friends and friends did not lie. But Lelouch did with every breath by virtue of being there.

"I imagine whatever facade the Emperor employs, he will deliver justice. And who is more guilty of letting the prince die, than the division he served in... and the squadron that should have protected him."

It was too hot. Sweat rolled down his back and Lelouch squeezed his eyes shut. Why did he have to bear such a burden? He hadn't asked for it. He only wanted to live free and prove his worth. He had become what he wanted to avoid: a pawn in someone else's game. Corporal... that was his new rank. One earned for nothing but given because of blood spilled. In the end, even that was not enough. 

He had been a fool. He had searched for a way free and not seen the trap on the other side.

Defeated, Lelouch bowed his head and whispered, "What  _ can  _ I do?"

"Vanquish your weaknesses. Learn to lie, not by omission, but deliberation. You have a sharp blade in your hands Lelouch, you must only learn to use it and harden your heart. Words are the weapons of a prince and a strong mind. Not blades, guns or knightmares. From the darkness, you can weave a web and soldiers will rise to battle for you, officers will dance in your hands," York paused and his hand gently combed through Lelouch's hair, "and a royal will tremble at your touch."

Lelouch froze. He had to leave. But York was behind him and he couldn't move. If only he was stronger... If only his mother had killed York for his crime... but she let him roam free. She didn't care. There was no one to protect him.

A familiar voice shouted from close by. Alex. "Sergeant Malfoire. Where do you want the papers?"

York floated away and his voice became warm and friendly. "Right on time, Alex. Why don't you come inside. Your friend Lelouch is here."

"Oh, he is? Is he going to go into communications as well, sir?"

York chuckled and Lelouch turned to see him ruffle Alex's hair who beamed in delight. The mask slipped although his voice remained light. "Are you Lelouch?"

At Alex's worried expression and York's darkening one, Lelouch forced a smile. "Yes Alex. If you don't mind. I wouldn't want to intrude."

"Not at all." Alex beamed. 

A satisfied smirk crossed York's face and Lelouch knew he had lost the game for which he had never been told the rules.

* * *

**Royal Palace in New Pendragon**

Arthur Greenford dabbed his lips with his handkerchief as he heard the guard announce the presence of the Emperor and Empress Marianne. She was such a continued nuisance and had the Emperor wrapped around her finger. Despite being a cripple, she was allowed to serve in the military. He had expected her to fall in Area Eleven, yet she swept the Area clear. Then she had repeated the feat in Area Two and he could only take solace in the rumors that the Count had crawled out of his dark corner and was continuing his efforts. Still, even if he was back, it would do nothing to damage the legend of Empress Marianne, for she returned from Area Twelve victorious.

Her, a cripple and a commoner, continuing to dominate the battlefield was an affront to everything that Britannia stood for. His lips curled. And now the Emperor lowered himself to push her wheelchair. Sickening.

"Unseemly. I wonder what the media will say tomorrow?" asked Oberstein as he materialized next to Arthur. "The Emperor pushing her wheelchair sends quite a message."

"The wrong sort. His affection seems to grow every year that passes by."

"True. The attempted assassination only brought them closer. I doubt that was something the culprit intended. I would say this is a facade, but their affection is nauseatingly real."

"It's still the Emperor," Arthur hissed and glanced around the ball room. 

The Emperor finally left his favored wife and walked up the stairs to his golden throne. His robes swept the floor and fluttered to a stop gracefully as he sat down. Arthur's brow furrowed as he glanced at the robes and the distinctive cut. They were remarkably similar to the ones Charles zi Britannia had worn after slaying the former Emperor, Brandon vi Britannia. 

"Seems he is making a statement," Arthur whispered.

Oberstein hummed absently. "When is he not? No. He knows the majority in the room will be displeased with his stunt with Lady Marianne. He has to feel quite confident and secure in his base to take such a risk. Yet, the robes..."

"If he's trying to remind us of that day... then he can't feel that secure. It's a reminder of what he is capable of."

"As if we ever needed one," spat Oberstein with uncharacteristic bitterness. "It’s a warning. He can easily manage whatever lord decides to act thinking that the Emperor is weak. He just doesn't want to bother. Understandable. Paperwork is such an affront on humanity."

Arthur moved to respond, but a subtle jab of Oberstein's elbow silenced him. Adopting a cordial smile, Arthur bowed as Prince Schneizel, the Prime Minister of Britannia, approached.

"Lord Greenford, Lord Oberstein. A pleasure as always. I hear your affairs are running well." Prince Schneizel tilted his head, yet he did not pass them by.

Only the slight acceleration of his heart rate betrayed Arthur's unease as Prince Schneizel's interest. Only fools did not fear the Prince. One did not become the Prime Minister at sixteen without being conniving. Those who spoke ill had a tendency to suffer unfortunate accidents. 

"Business as usual, Your Highness," Arthur replied, "It's all rather mundane and monotonous. My old bones miss the thrill of battle, but I'm afraid it's just too much for my joints. Have you heard of the unfortunate fate of the HEA Carlton? The E.U. did a number on their forces."

"The E.U. grows bolder with each passing day," Prince Schneizel replied calmly. "It is only fortune that my sister had gone on shore for a mission. I shudder to think what those savages would have done with a member of the royal family."

"Terrible that," Oberstein muttered, "but speaking of royalty, your father is causing quite a stir."

The smile was a tad too sharp. "Yes. It seems my father tires seeing his favored wife disparaged by the court. Affairs have been becoming rather dull. The fallout will definitely spice up my work."

Arthur couldn't help the furrow in his brow. Prince Schneizel sounded too enthused by the prospect and Arthur hadn't pegged him as an ally of the vi Britannias. He would have to send out some feelers. It wouldn't do for the relationship he was carefully cultivating between Princess Guinivere and his nephew, Bedivere, to fall apart because he missed Schneizel's play.

"I recall Empress Marianne had two children," said Oberstein as he scanned the ballroom, "I'm surprised to see them absent."

Arthur nodded as he recalled a hazy announcement of Empress Marianne giving birth to her second child. The names eluded him and he took a delicate sip of wine. Oberstein's question reminded him that there were potential other players in the game. 

"Yes. Lelouch and Nunnally. After the assassination attempt, Lady Marianne withdrew them from court life and given that they're both below the age of majority, father permits it."

"A few more years then," Oberstein whispered, "but how are they? The assassination attempt must have shook them. They were so young."

"I met Nunnally earlier in the year. We played a game of chess, which was enlightening. Apparently, Lelouch has been keeping himself busy, although she didn't share many specifics."

Arthur blinked slowly. Chess? "I look forward to the opportunity of meeting them. It sounds like they possess an enterprising mind."

"Quite," Schneizel said. 

Mulling the question over in his mind, Arthur decided to risk it. It seemed the prince was in a magnanimous mood. "And what does the Emperor think of her children?"

Schneizel raised a single eyebrow and turned to look at the Emperor conferring with his wife at the throne. "Father always holds his cards tightly. But if you truly seek my opinion, you're courting the wrong sister of mine. Cornelia has the drive to keep climbing and Nunnally won't allow herself to be sidelined."

Arthur did not care for the women. They were the weak links in the chain and by nature, wouldn't be able to stand against a man. It was the boy he was interested in and worry churned in his gut at Schneizel's avoidance of the topic. If he was protecting the boy, that meant Schneizel saw his younger brother as a potential ally. An intelligent ally.

It was Oberstein who dared to ask the question Arthur yearned to: "And what of Prince Lelouch? I recall some rather outrageous rumors when he was younger."

Schneizel laughed, drawing attention from others dancing close by and eavesdropping. "He was always willful, but it's more a trait of royalty, than unique to him."

"So the rumors that you played chess with him are unfounded?"

"Oh no. Those are quite true. And he taught Nunnally well."

Arthur could feel a headache coming on. A praise from Schneizel occurred once in a blue moon, meaning the young prince deserved it. More and more, Prince Lelouch was someone to watch. Unfortunately, having withdrawn from the public eye meant Arthur had no chance to observe the prince for himself. 

"I admit I'm curious," Arthur began, carefully watching Schneizel's face, "whether we'll ever see the young prince? Royalty shouldn't be sequestered away. Denying him the opportunity to interact with his father's subjects will only be to his detriment."

Schneizel shrugged. "I already asked father if Lelouch and Nunnally were joining us for the annual Christmas festivities. He says they are busy, and alas, that is where the line of questioning ends."

Oberstein tapped his glance, and while his statement sounded innocent, there was a slight edge to it: "The Emperor seems to take a great interest in their safety. He never granted such allowances for his other children."

Inclining his head, Schneizel said, "My father adores Lady Marianne and she adores her children. I would not say my father is more fond of them than his other children. He rules fairly and—"

The large oak doors swung open without an announcement and conversations died down as heads swiveled to see the intruder. Sir Bismarck Waldstein strode forward and Arthur blinked. He had thought the knight to be the Emperor's literal shadow, but upon reflection, he had been suspiciously absent. Muffled cries echoed through the cavernous room. As the knight ascended the steps to the throne, Arthur caught sight of the man being dragged behind. 

Black hair peeked above the bindings.

The corner of Prince Schneizel's lips ticked upwards and he took a long delicate sip of his wine. "Lord Oberstein, you are acquainted with the soon to be former Earl Seymour?"

Arthur flinched. Stripping a noble title was not done lightly. It meant Earl Seymour, a man known for his magnanimity, had committed a grave crime. Next to him, Oberstein smoothed his shirt with one hand and glanced back at the trussed Earl. 

"I imagine everyone is Your Highness. He is well known and well liked."

Prince Schneizel didn't have the opportunity to reply as the Emperor stood up and the room became deathly still. "Earl Seymour, you are found guilty of breaking the laws that you have sworn to uphold. You are found guilty of practicing slavery, a practice banned since Washington's Rebellion. You are found guilty of developing and distributing illicit drugs among the populous. What do you have to say to your defense?"

Arthur watched the man tremble on the ground as Sir Waldstein ripped off the gag and wondered what necessitated justice to be so swift. "Not even a trial?"

Prince Schneizel didn't move. He continued to stare at the display before him, enraptured. "This is a trial. Britannia is just."

Taking a step backwards, Oberstein grimaced. "A trial is done by the courts. This is the Emperor's justice. While his crimes are despicable, let us not pretend he is the only lord to commit such actions within this room."

"The case was first brought to His Majesty by Lord Ashford who had been investigating rumors within the areas. Concurrently, a terrorist group in Area Eleven gifted the information to our European friends. They found him guilty this morning and I have spent all day calming ruffled feathers. Earl Seymour is a Britannian and thus will submit to Britannian justice."

Unsaid was that it couldn't be swept under the rug. Ashford, for all Arthur despised the man, was a stickler for the truth. He would fight a losing battle to bring the information to light. Meanwhile, the Euorpeans would disseminate Seymour's crimes among their propaganda and proclaim Britannia as the mother of all evils. Hypocrites. They were guilty of everything they claimed. No society was without fault. Britannia's justice was swift and unswayed by the fickle opinions of the uneducated. It made it reliable. 

Seymour's voice carried through the ballroom: sniveling and weak. "Your Majesty. I beg for mercy. I never harmed a citizen of Britannia. I taught the Numbers their place."

Oberstein grimaced and whispered, "Have the terrorists been caught?"

Schneizel took another delicate sip, still focused on the spectacle before them. "No. Rather elusive terrorists."

"So this execution simply exists to de-fang whatever other information they possess."

"It's justice all the same," Schneizel replied and pressed the wine glass into Arthur's hands as he took a step forward. "Father loves his statements."

The Emperor boomed, "Your concerns are with that of your estates and upholding the laws of the land myself and my forbearers decreed. For forsaking this sacred duty, I strip you and your family of all titles and holdings."

"No! Mercy. Please. My crime is my own." Seymour began to sob.

"Sir Waldstein, release him. Seymour, stand."

Trembling, Seymour stood. His hair glistened from sweat and quiet begs pierced the frozen air.

"My dear," the Emperor said and offered a hand to Empress Marianne.

She rolled forward and from deep within the folds of her dress pulled out a bejeweled gun. The blood red rubies scattered light and droplets of blood danced across the floor. 

The Emperor trusted his wife to allow her to have a gun within his presence. He wanted her to have a gun. Arthur wondered if perhaps he should be less openly hostile regarding the woman. She had bewitched the Emperor completely.

The gun trained on the former lord who fell to his knees. "Please! I beg you. I'll give you anything."

The Emperor proclaimed the inevitable sentence. "For your crimes, I sentence you to death. Stand with the last remnants of honor you possess."

"Please no! I'll confess to everything! I'll tell you who helped me! Who paid me! You can use me. I'll serve you loyally! Please."

Outraged whispering spread through the room. It was one thing to commit a crime... but Arthur thought Seymour had honor, yet he would sacrifice everyone else to save his skin. The man deserved to die.

Prince Schneizel turned around and Arthur glanced behind him, wondering what could have caught the Prince's attention. His breath caught within his throat. The royal guard streamed through the doors. Slowly, the other nobles began to notice and shrieked in outrage. The royal guard swept through the crowd diligently hunting their targets. 

With the doors now hanging open, Arthur could now see the news crews filming and elegant reporters gesturing empathetically at the gathered crowd. The Emperor was indeed putting on a show... but not for the nobles to who he owed his power, but rather the commoners. It was all the witch's fault who stood by the side of the throne, her gun ready without a quiver in her hand. 

Arthur glanced at Oberstein whose eyes were a smidge too wide as he watched the guards enter and arrest lord after lady, ignoring their fervent protests. It was a coup. But normally a coup dispatched the head, not the torso. Surely the Emperor could not be this confident in his might to anger every noble beneath him. More worryingly, perhaps the Emperor knew he could control the fall out. 

"What is the meaning of this Prince Schneizel?" Oberstein hissed as he regained his wits. "In this room, are the Emperor's strongest allies. Do you mean that we are nothing before him?"

Prince Schneizel grabbed the wine glass back from Arthur's petrified hands. "The most dangerous snake is the one found in bed. I imagine you and Lord Greenford have nothing to worry about if you kept free of Seymour's business."

Arthur scowled. Everyone had business with Seymour.

"Well then, perhaps you do have something to worry about."

And Arthur had said his thoughts out loud: an amateur's mistake. A shot rang through the air, proving the day could indeed get worse. 

Nobles screamed as they reeled backwards from a fallen guard bleeding out on the ground.

A familiar figure turned to flee and Arthur could only watch, as another man he had thought he had known, proved to be dishonorable. Margrave Leger, his gun in his hand, rushed towards the Emperor and people dove to the side as the guards rushed afterwards.

"The idiot," whispered Oberstein. "Waldstein will destroy him."

True to his prediction, Sir Waldstein stepped forward and drew his blade. It sliced through the air with enviable grace and speed. The Knight of One, true to his legend, needed but only a moment to dispatch the threat. The head rolled back into the crowd and to the pursuing guards.

Noticing the ever increasing tension among the nobles around them as the guards approached, Arthur turned to the Prince. "Your Highness, you should leave. A stray dagger will end your life swiftly."

Unconcerned, Schneizel nodded at the Emperor before turning back to them. "I assure you, I am adequately protected."

The guards were certainly close enough to deter many attacks, but Arthur eyed the nearby nobles warily. An attack on the Prince would likely catch himself in the cross-fire and Arthur was not keen on dying yet. His family's name could still rise to greater heights and he intended to see it. Oberstein, stiff besides him, was surely having similar thoughts. Their eyes met and flicked to the doors.

As loyal Britannians, they should ensure that the prince came to no harm. But surely if the prince insisted on being obstinate, they didn't have to martyr themselves besides him.

"Your Highness," Oberstein hissed, "I must insist you move to safety."

Five guards began to move towards them and Arthur's heart began to beat erratically within his chest. Weapons were not permitted in the Emperor's presence and he had only a small blade tucked in the sole of his boot. Perhaps Seymour was just a ruse. Surely not all of these people were accomplices. It was inconceivable... and if the Emperor was willing to arrest over half of his court, then it meant he would have no issue taking them under false pretenses.

Arthur was a noble. Fraudulent arrests were for the weak who had nothing useful to give. He couldn't die, but his knife was too far to reach.

A blue robed noble, his hair perfectly partitioned, and with bright frenzied green eyes leaped at Prince Schneizel. The knife descended in a beautiful arc.

Arthur didn't move. Perhaps it would be for the best once Arthur survived this calamity. The prince grew in power every year and with it, his deadliness. With Prince Schneizel out of the way, Prince Odysseus would abdicate to his sister and his nephew would become her husband and lead the Empire. Even if he died, his line would be successful. Prince Schneizel had to die.

A flash of silver intercepted the blade and the assassin gurgled. 

"Almost too late Kanon," Prince Schneizel murmured.

And the opportunity was lost. Torn away by a rose-haired servant who now dutifully knelt by the still cooling body.

"Lord Greenford, Lord Oberstein," Schneizel began and Arthur froze. His lack of action could be equally as damming. "I suggest you work on those reflexes of yours. Next time, it will be you who will fall to an assassin's blade."

Prince Schneizel turned away and nodded at the Emperor. Around him, nobles lay on the ground with their hands bound behind their back. The guards continued to sweep through the room and the remaining nobles pressed themselves against the wall. Some of the ladies cryed or covered the eyes of their children. The formerly blue tiles gleamed crimson; it was the Emblem of Blood all over again.

The Emperor took a step forward. "Seymour. As you can see, your conspirators have all been found. The information you possess is useless. You are sentenced to death. Marianne, if you will do the honors?"

She fired and Seymour fell.

Prince Schneizel sighed. "It seems Lord Oberstein, you were not one of the missing names on Seymour's list."

"He kept a list?" Oberstein asked, aghast.

"Seymour was an exceptional bureaucrat. It is almost commendable his diligence in taking notes. Come Kanon. Time to meet the press."

Watching Prince Schneizel walk off, Arthur shook his head and suddenly felt drained. Slumping, he glanced back at the Emperor talking quietly to his wife, as if half of his court did not lie on the ground in chains. The carpet of security had been ripped from beneath his feet, leaving him off kilter. 

"Lord Oberstein, may I entreat you to a drink at my estate?" Arthur asked and ignored the tremor in his voice.

Oberstein closed his eyes. "I think I'll take you up on that offer Arthur. And please, call me Frederick. I think now is the time for friends, not the game of politics."

"Are we friends still Frederick? It has been a long time."

"Since my brother, Rudolf... I know. You were always a close friend and I couldn't let my problems become yours. Not when you had your whole life laid out before you and a wonderful life looking forward to your presence every night. It would have been selfish of me to impose."

An apology years too late, but it was an apology nonetheless and Arthur accepted it. There would always be a realm of awkwardness between them, but maybe they could find a new way forward together. It was a start and at least Oberstein, no Frederick, was being honest. Men he had thought honorable lay on the ground, proving that Arthur hadn't known them at all.

"Well Frederick. I think the party is over."

"Yes."

Outside in the fresh nighttime air and the stars shining as if nothing had changed, Frederick said, "Schneizel used himself as bait."

If his knife had been somewhere more accessible, Arthur would be the one lying on the floor, dead. "We were suspects."

"Yes. And I can only assume that others fell into the same trap despite being innocent. The Emperor decided to clean his house and Seymour's crimes provided the proper cover."

Arthur wrapped his coat tighter. A small blood stain on his collar mocked him. "What is he playing at? There was always an understanding that the Emperor needed us nobles and we accepted the Emperor because he aligns with our own self-interests. But to say he doesn't need us at all? It will lead to rebellion."

"What else is new?" Frederick chuckled. "Civil War runs in the blood of Britannia. We grew up in it, we will die in it. And the cycle will rinse and repeat for each and every one of our descendants. In Area Two the peasants are revolting, gathering meager victories, but shaking the trust of the people in the Emperor. Elevens continued to fight long after their subjugation. Britannia's strength lies in conquest, not internal affairs."

"And he purposefully fans the flames? This action was rash, not to mention blatantly favoring the commoner wife of his."

"Others will think the Emperor is weak after this night, but the Emperor’s strength is immeasurable and this move? This move is just one on the chessboard meant to sow dissension and confusion, while he prepares for his larger strike. He cleaned the house of all but the most staunch loyalists and cowards who were too afraid to act."

Bristling, "I'm not a coward."

"I am. Honor is your game, Arthur, and I guess that makes you a loyalist. But I am a coward who works through words and far from the action having others do my bidding. Rudolf was the brave one... and he died for it."

Arthur stopped. "You know why his men turned on him?"

"Yes."

Kind and brave Rudolf who laughed and never let anyone down. "Why?"

Frederick glanced around and stepped closer to Arthur. "I have known for a long time Arthur... and I will not say. It is a secret that I will take to my grave."

The chasm was growing and Arthur's honor burned within him. He had renounced Emperor Brandon to avenge Rudolf. And now, he learned that the task was incomplete.

"I will not say, and no claim of yours regarding honor will sway my mind. You would rush off, galvanized by the thought of vengeance and not survive the encounter. Only cowards can survive and pray for the chance to finally claim justice." Frederick's phone rang and he grimaced. "Let us save the drink for another time. This is urgent."

Arthur was left on the curbside waiting for his driver, more confused than ever, but vowed to discover the secret that caused his old friend such grief and caused him to forsake honor. Rudolf would have justice... And for his actions against the nobility, the Emperor would fall.

* * *

**Forward Base Division 712, Near Ottawa, Area **

Lelouch, buried doubts and thoughts of York's assignment, as he let Pablo guide him inside a large tent in the midst of camp. At the front, it appeared as a large storage area, but hidden behind crates and out of sight, various soldiers lazed around. Overturned crates were used as makeshift tables with beer cans on them. Light seeped through the thin fabric of the tent, illuminating the stuffy space. Feeling the accusing gazes of the other soldiers, Lelouch ducked his head, and hid behind Pablo's broad shoulders. 

Pablo sat down on the ground and pulled out a handful of coins, slamming them onto the table. "Jon! Bring me the good stuff will you?"

"So... dented or scratched, Pablo?" a soldier called out.

Lelouch turned to see the man, Jon, pulling his knife out of a fading picture taped to a crate. Leaning down, he grabbed three cans and sauntered over. His shirt was untucked, and in his waistband, Lelouch could see a non-military issued pistol. Jon smirked as he set the two cans down and plopped down on the ground.

"So," Jon asked as he opened his can, "didn't peg ya as bringing Brits in, my friend."

"He ain't an officer."

Jon pointed at the silver badge, gleaming on his shoulder. "Corporal, ain't nothing to sniff at either. Not a place for his folks... and Pablo, my man, thought ya understood the code." He paused and waggled his eyebrows. "Unless, ya aiming up?"

Pablo flushed an unhealthy shade of red and spluttered, "I'm not a cradle robber Jon! Look, you owe me a favor for the Swinston incident. Just give him a chance, that's all I'm asking." He took a sip of beer. "And it's nothing like that."

"Well Brit," spat Jon, "what makes ya special? Pablo hates collecting on favors. Hoards 'em like a dragon."

Somehow, it was easier to face a court martial, than this simple man who, despite his unassuming posture, screamed danger. "I am not looking for trouble. Pablo dragged me along."

Jon leaned closer and Lelouch turned away as he was assaulted by the man's heavy breath laden with alcohol. Leaning back, Jon took another sip. "Kid. You're how old?"

"Almost fifteen," Lelouch said while crossing his arms.

"Right..." Jon looked back at Pablo. "He lies like shit Pablo. If you're gonna adopt a Brit duckling, ya might as well teach'em proper. Talks like ya to be fair."

"I'm not adopting him Jon," Pablo protested, "And he talked like that already when I found him."

Jon laughed and clapped Pablo on his back. "Mother hen."

"I loathe you."

"I know you love me. Ya keep coming back. And it's not for this crap," he said gesturing to the beer. "Now, what's the duckling's name?"

Feeling insulted, Lelouch cut in, "Lelouch Lamperouge. And I'm not a duck."

Jon's eyes widened and he broke into a coughing fit. Recovering, he stared at Pablo. "You're pulling my leg right? He's so short."

There was an amused glimmer in Pablo's eye as he replied, "Nope. Completely serious. He even helped me get in contact with my family. That's why I'm asking you to give him a shot. Lelouch's a good kid."

"A kid. You've got to be kidding," Jon muttered and shook his head. "You sure it's him? Not a Brit trick? Because a snot faced brat, ain't what I was expecting."

"Excuse me?" Lelouch asked. "What's the issue?"

Jon glared up at the ceiling or a moment, before crossing his arms and regarding Lelouch. "Well, they say someone managed to save our hides from the Count. A skilled strategist. And they even managed to escape a court-martial unscathed. But a duckling could've hardly managed that."

Lelouch bristled and remembered the terror of facing the Count's Crows. "It was luck. The Count was too overconfident and we got lucky."

Leaning back, Jon regarded him and raised an eyebrow. "Not what I expected, but guess a Brit has it easy in court. Still... Pablo, your duckling isn't much of a duckling."

Pablo groaned. "He's not my duckling."

"Perhaps a goose? They've got teeth, the viscous hellions... Pablo's little gosling. I think that works." Jon stood up and raised his can, "A toast to the victorious commander Lamperouge." He burst into laughter. "Pablo's gosling."

Lelouch buried his head in his hands as he heard everyone cheer. He hadn't done much of worth, yet they were cheering him and clapping him on the back, and continuing to make jokes about his stature. Lelouch was tall for his age... life was completely unfair. 

"Drink up lass," Jon ordered, shoving the beer can before his nose. "A great commander needs to know how to drink."

The bitter taste of beer slid down his throat and Lelouch set the can back down with a grimace. It was nothing like the alcohol served at various social functions and even then, his mother had always disapproved. Lelouch froze, realizing that she would most certainly hear of his escapades and the risk he had taken. "I'm so grounded."

Pablo laughed. "Haven't had to worry about that for a long time. Come on kid. you needed a birthday gift for your sister, right? Let's see what we can scrounge up."

Lelouch shuffled after Pablo, ducking his head and avoiding the inquisitive gazes of others. "Pablo... I'm a bit broke."

"Consider it a loan," Pablo replied, waving off the concern.

"Loan?" Jon cried in mock distress. "You would swindle the Hero of the Night? No. For the sister of the gosling, it's on the house. Well... within reason."

Hero of the what now? He had bluffed! And suddenly all those hostile and suspicious gazes had turned to indifference... or worse, hero worship. If he had been better, more convincing, then the camp wouldn't be half-full. 

"Now, let's see what we've got," Jon said as he rummaged through a crate. "How old is this sister of yours turning anyway?"

"Nine," Lelouch whispered. The same age he had been when the assassin had come and permanently crippled his mother and blinded his sister. Nine. He had been too young. He would never let Nunnally be in such a position. 

"Got some books here. Most of 'em are stories from back home. Not Brit."

There was a test there to determine his attitude to Numbers and willingness to risk his new found rank for illegal contraband. "She's blind."

"It's true," Pablo replied to the questioning glance from Jon. "They send letters to another in braille. That's how I sent my letter."

"Hmm... Not much for kids in here. Don't imagine she'd a-ppre-ciate the adult games. Or grenades. What were ya thinking?"

Lelouch considered for a moment. "Not sure. I sent her stories last time. And a picture of myself so she could show her friends. Maybe a necklace so she has something to remember me by?"

"Blind eh? Don't got much in jewelry. But I can introduce you to Carl. He's right fancy with the needle. Maybe he can cook something up." Jon tapped his chin and his face stretched into a smile. "But remember ya by? What better way than giving ya a gosling? I'll give it ta ya tomorrow. Carving it should be a splash."

"Thank you," Lelouch replied dutifully. He was not a gosling, duckling, or whatever Jon would think of next. But for his sister, he would fight through the embarrassment. It would be worth it if she smiled from across the ocean.

Jon hummed and began sorting through small chunks of wood, tossing them in his hand, and sorting through. "Hey gosling? Is the letter thing with Pablo a one time deal? Or between hombres?"

"I'll ask her," Lelouch offered. Still, a carving made on his behalf was hardly something from Lelouch himself. Pride could hang itself. This was for Nunnally. "Can I still see Carl?"

"Got a shift in the med. You ain't that bad for a Brit. Maybe, I'll even like ya. Need anything, just ask Pablo to show you in. Ya won't find us here again."

* * *

**Location Classified, New Pendragon**

Charles's order had filled the palace's prisons to the brim. Nobles who dared to skit his laws sat in straightjackets, their eyes glowering at him. The thick glass prevented him from hearing any curses. His and Marianne's show in the ballroom had gone perfectly and his son, Schneizel, was currently going over the footage that the reporters had captured. It would drop within a few hours and paint the Emperor as just. In recent years, the commoners had become restless. Nationalism only kept rebellion abay for so long.

This move? This move let the commoners pin all the faults of Britannia on the corrupt nobles while endearing them to the Emperor. Too many nobles believed that their wills were absolute, and refused to listen to their constituents. No power was absolute, not the Emperor's, or even Charles's Geass. 

Stopping before the cell of Margrave Lichenfeld, a thorn in his side for many years, he nodded at the guard who unlocked the door. Bismarck stepped in first and grabbed the soon to be former lord, by his hair. The door clicked shut behind them and Charles glanced around the room in disgust. He refused to kneel.

His Geass activated within his eyes and Bismarck dragged Lichenfeld's head up; their eyes met. In the time it took to blink, Charles's Geass caught hold of the man's mind. Rewriting memories was always a tricky business, especially when it involved the core personality of the subject. Lichenfeld was innocent of the crimes Charle's accused him of and too proud to plead guilty, but he was the kind of man everyone hated. Forcing him on the stand to confess before the people would make Charles a paragon of virtue. 

It had been years since the Emblem of Blood and memories were such fickle things dulled by time. The masses would forget how Charles had earned his throne in an era of blood. The Empire no longer needed a symbol of unstoppable strength to hold it by it's tattering seams through sheer will. No, the Empire needed a kinder hand that convinced the populous that the Empire was the only force capable of providing the security they required... And maybe, it would quench the rising tensions in Area Two where his obstinate son resided, and refused to return home to safety.

Focusing his mind, Charles returned to bending Lichenfeld's mind to his own. He planted seeds of a crime that he didn't commit and contorted his pride to become one that took perverse pleasure in revealing his superiority. The pieces continued to shift and fall into place. At last, Charles stepped back and smiled.

Lichenfeld blinked as Charles released his Geass and then focused on Charles with a burning hatred. "You!"

It had been successful. The changes had been small enough that there was little chance of his true mind pushing back. 

"Emperor Brandon vi Britannia was the true Emperor. You are a kin-slayer. A charlatan. The Empire will burn. Kill me! But know that I will die a loyal man!" 

It seemed Charles's musings had influenced Lichenfeld's thoughts beyond what he intended. It didn't matter. The man would confess to his crimes and be dead by midday tomorrow. He turned around and waited for the guard to open the door once more. Another five nobles would require special attention and then, there would be no doubt in the commoner's minds that Charles had worked for their own good. 

Later in the evening, sitting at his desk with weary eyes, Charles glanced at the various intelligence reports. Thomas was reporting on Ashford who continued to push boundaries, but Charles will let him be for now. Lord Ashford was a loyal Britannian despite his more soft hearted nature and would be necessary to sell Charle's appearance of goodwill. With numerous noble titles opening up, it would be wise to gauge Lord Ashford's opinion on the matter. While inexperienced in politics, Lord Ashford had a keen eye for talent.

A report, marked urgent, caught Charles's eyes. It was from his agent watching Lelouch. Glancing at the rest of the pile, he noticed the agent had sent a follow up report. Rubbing his brow, he exhaled wearily, and began to read what shennanigans his son had been up to. As he continued through the report, his brow began to rise. The attack on the 712th hadn't yet made its way to him and showed the Count's military might was beyond expected. Fortunately, for Marianne's sake, Lelouch had escaped with but a scratch on the forehead.

Still, the escalating situation made him wary. He had hoped that Marianne's bloody warpath would have put the so-called Count to a swift end. Instead, he had crawled back out of the gutter and scrounged up a knightmare. The Count, it seemed, had some noble backings which the Empire needed to resolve quickly. But for now, Charles would have to do his best to present Area Two at ease. The Count's survival reflected badly on Britannia's perceived military might.

Complicating matters even further, Charles had not been able to uncover the assassin that had pursued Lelouch. The deaths had fallen off, but Charles couldn't know whether they intended to try again... No, he knew that if Lelouch revealed himself that the assassin would have a clear target. It was imperative for Lelouch to remain hidden until he could protect himself. Charles had a few years of leeway until Lelouch turned fourteen, but then, Lelouch would have to be ready. Considering the loyalty that Lelouch seemed to inspire—even if the subtle signs of affection were rather worrisome coming from his own agent—he would be ready in time. The commoner friends of his would serve him well when the time came.

Still, they were commoners and unused to Court life. Lelouch himself, having been removed for years, would have trouble navigating the realm of nobles upon his return. Additionally, there was a small matter of Lelouch attracting trouble. It was a personality trait causing Charles to lose more hair than he wished to admit. If only Lelouch had more of Nunnally's charm who continued to befriend students with ease and kept under the radar. 

Yes. Charles stacked the papers and pushed them aside, before leaning down and pulling out thick perfumed letter paper with gold ornaments on the edge. With the nobles thrown into chaos from Charles's actions, it was an optimal time to secure a few loyalties and ensure that a few nobles of more trustworthy reputation were sent to the 712th. The circus of officers which constituted the command there, would be no more. One or two to sort the entire mess out.

He would also have to find a noble youth, perhaps one who aspired to be a knight or had just joined as a cadet, to transfer there. They needed to be open-minded enough that Lelouch would not reject them outright. The difficulty was pushing them into a friendship. Perhaps his agent would be of further use? Charles scowled. No. That would be a risky affair. He needed to recondition his agent soon and an order to help foster a relationship between his son and a noble boy might make him resistant to future use of Charles's Geass.

Instead, he would monitor the situation and see if something could develop naturally. Marianne's resource, York, could be of some use, but OSI agents were notoriously sadistic and Charles was still unsure what he thought of the man in such close proximity to his son. York definitely intended to use Lelouch to his own advantage. Knowing that Charles wished Lelouch to earn the loyalty of a noble would give York unneeded ammunition. No. It was better to leave York to more useful things such as spinning any future court martials in Lelouch's favor or if need be, spiriting Lelouch away should his identity ever be compromised.

Charles leaned back and closed his eyes. Multiple court martials. Considering how willful his son was... it was a frighteningly real possibility. Even Marianne had accepted working within the confines of the system. Unfortunately, Lelouch had inherited his relentless drive to overcome all obstacles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> -Lelouch got rid of all the nobles by the power of mind control. Charles can manipulate people's thoughts. He is a bit more subtle when getting rid of people he doesn't like. Of course he could have gone with mysterious defenestrations and poisonings like other regimes.
> 
> -Readdressing education: Britannia commoners aren't necessarily uneducated. There are local schools that teach young children (historically, around 7-11) run by the church or community donations. They're just not what we would call a "public school," meaning run by the state. Our modern school system is pretty... well modern. You could potentially see education as a bunch of small "private schools" which happen to be free or charge very low fees. These schools lack the resources to teach advanced skills and because they're locally run, there's no accepted standard of education. If you're smart enough and lucky enough to be very well educated, you're better off becoming a private tutor than a teacher. Furthermore, a university education is inaccessible to the commoners because universities are only open to nobles. This system results in a shortage of people who know advanced math or science... which is bad. 
> 
> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.
> 
> I've swung between loathing this chapter and somewhat liking it repeatedly. Which character do you detest loathe right now? And why?
> 
> The next chapter is a little different...  
See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )


	26. Kaleidoscope Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**La Sarre, Area 2**

At the corner of Malaidez by the crumbling water fountain covered in snow, Art purged his thoughts. The cold wind whistled through the lonely and crumbling buildings. Across the street, next to the bakery that never opened, stood his old childhood home: an apartment on the first floor. He didn't let his eyes dwell on the weathered stones and dying vines climbing up the east side, obscuring the window which he had always kept shut. His past had formed him, but Art refused to let it weigh him down. He had been one of two to escape the small town with the small church and its leaning bell tower.

Every second Friday of the month, Art looked back and his feet wandered the same old streets of his youth. The smiling child with a burning smile and heavy heart was no more. Art no longer collected newspaper coupons in a tin under his bed or scoured the streets for loose change. Those habits, which once had been ingrained, vanished with time. Only one remained.

The bells rang thrice and a flock of birds took to the overcast sky. Art, his head bowed and hands deep in his pocket, walked down the icy street. It was the same kind of weather that had kept his mother inside and unable to work; she was no longer there. Two houses down from the end of the street, Art stopped and his breath condensed in the air.

Time had not been gentle to Brigit's house; the shutters sagged and vines ate away at bricks as they scaled the walls. Art gazed down the street at an old woman carrying a loaf of bread under her arm as she hauled her heavy bag of groceries. She looked familiar, but Art turned back to the sturdy door. He took a deep breath.

Art had two rules for whenever he came: forget his unsavory activities and focus fully on Oliver.

His inability to identify the voice of the noble that foiled their attack, the loss of resources as the Emperor arrested their amoral suppliers, the need to vet new nobles who wished to show the Emperor his place, the worry that someone knew who Brigit was and chose to send Refrain... All those thoughts were purged ruthlessly. They mattered not on every second Friday.

Art knocked. 

The nurse, a petite woman whose stature hid a dragon, cracked the door open and, upon recognizing him, pulled it wide open. "Art. Of course it's you. Oliver will be delighted."

Art wiped off his shoes and set them aside by the radiator. Shrugging off his coat, he asked, "I hope there hasn't been any trouble?"

Ava took the coat and hung it up. "No. Nothing I can't take care of. Some over eager youth who want to see our so-called demon child, but I sent them packing. Can't have their lot making Oliver upset... And Brigit? She comes by less and less and Oliver misses her."

Sometimes, Art suspected that Brigit didn't care as much for her younger brother as she claimed. It wasn't a thought he ever dared to voice, worried for the consequences it might bring. She ensured that he was well taken care off, and in Britannia, that was all one could expect. "Brigit is busy."

"Knightmare duels?" Ava shook her head as she began to lead him up the steps. "Never thought she would go from playing the violin to that. Now a lady too. What a strange world we live in. But really, she should make some time for her brother."

The smile felt tight as Art passed a picture of him and Oliver laughing by the creek. "There is much to do, I'm afraid."

A rebellion to run for one... but he pushed that thought aside viciously. It had no place in this house.

Ava sniffed. "Well at least you come Art. And truly, tell Brigit that if those fancy nobles she hangs about, can't accept her brother, then they're not worth the coin they dine on." Shaking her head, she stepped into the kitchen and placed a few dog treats on a tray. "Would you like some tea Art? Or some cookies? Oliver and I baked them yesterday."

"No thank you, Ava," Art said. 

"Suit yourself," she said and picked up the tray, "At least tell Brigit if she's going to be one of those fancy folks now, she should buy this land. The lord around here has let it fall to such ruin. And taxes keep rising. But as long as Brigit pays, I should not complain too much. Most folks wouldn't even do that."

"Yes," Art whispered. Oliver was lucky that his sister had the ambition to leave and raise herself to great heights, but he suffered for her mistakes.

* * *

_ Pendragon Times _

_ Breaking News: Emperor Charles Arrests Royal Court and Former Earl Seymour Executed for Conspiracy _

_ By: David McKinley  _

_ October 29, 2012 _

_ It has been an exciting day within New Pendragon, expect updates as the story continues to unfold. In a stunning move, Emperor Charles invited the press to observe the Winter Ball. None of us knew what to expect, although we suspected a formal announcement of some kind. _

_ Instead, the Knight of One, Sir Bismark, dragged a chained Earl Seymour to the throne. The nobility fell silent and the Emperor stood up to announce the man's crimes. For our convenience, the palace provided us with the documents pertaining to Seymour's crimes after the fact. Despite numerous redactions, his crimes are extensive and sickening. The Numbers may be lesser, but a man must be judged by how he treats those beneath them, and in this instance, it reveals a dark truth. Seymour—a kind man to the public with numerous charitable contributions—was a psychopath. Pendragon Times confirmed with multiple investigators in Area Eleven and they painted a much darker image. _

_ For an account of Seymour's complete crimes and those speculated, please see page 5. _

_ In an unprecedented move, Emperor Charles ordered, not his knight, but his wife, Empress Marianne, to execute the man. She pulled out an ornate gun, showing this move was a joint decision, and pointed the gun at him with an unwavering arm. Regardless of what we thought, Emperor Charles was not done. As Empress Marianne trained her gun on Seymour, the loyal Royal guard flooded the room and began to arrest various other lords. Seymour was not alone in his crime and infected the ranks of nobility with his foul stench. (Of note, Margrave Lichenfeld, Earl Polinet, and Earl Rabeson were arrested. A full list of accused nobles can be found on page 10, with additional speculations on nobles who may be arrested on page 13) In the chaos, Baron Gelbrod, attempted to assassinate Prince Schneizel—our illustrious Prime Minister—and was stopped by a heroic servant as other nobles stood idly by. _

_ At the conclusion of this chaos, the Royal Guard successfully detained the nobles and those innocent, or not implicated yet, moved to the side of the ball room. It was then that Empress Marianne finally fired her gun and felled the most vile man of the decade. I rejoice that Seymour no longer may prey on our people. _

_ The Emperor claimed justice and proved that his will is the law. None will escape and we may take solace in that. _

* * *

**Cornwallis County, Ashford Estate, Pennsylvania**

Gwen returned home with weary eyes. The news cycle was spinning out of control and the endless arguments at work sapped her energy. The key trembled in her hands as she unlocked the door to her small apartment. Stumbling forward, she didn't bother turning on the lights and wandered through the dark into her kitchen and searched for a bottle of beer.

Something in the darkness moved and she froze, her hands dropping to her side to the small knife she carried with her at all times. 

"Lights please, Gwen?" Rick asked. "Rather dour surprise party if you're just going to slink off to bed."

Right. It was her birthday and her friends were annoying do-gooders. Crashing her foot into a chair, Gwen cursed as she hobbled back to the door and turned on the forsaken light switch. The lone light blinked to life.

"Surprise!" Rick and Oona shouted, in their hands a strawberry cake.

The sparkling sugar crust taunted Gwen and her rumbling stomach. Pointing her finger at her two friendly intruders, she barked, "Fine. We'll eat the cake, but I'm tired. You can join my mum on the weekend. Rick, bring Tom and Nikki, or else you'll be completely unbearable."

Rick looked down at the cake that he was cutting with precision. "We've really haven't caught up in ages, haven't we? Tom left last week to go to Ashford Academy. Lord Ashford is expanding the program. From the sounds of it, he wants everyone to attend school for at least one year."

"Oh, that's nice." Gwen sank into her chair and then rested her forehead on the cool table. "I can't believe I missed that! Why didn't you tell me?"

Oona laughed and passed her a slice of the cake. "Dear, you've been holed up at the press for ages. We even tried sending you a letter."

Gwen's fork stopped in midair. Setting it down, she raced over to her pile of mail and bills. "Shit."

"Busy, might have been an understatement," Rick muttered. "Sit down. If the mail had waited that long, then it can wait for another half-hour while we eat this scrumptious cake."

"Don't use big words with me right now, Rick. My head hurts enough as is," Gwen complained, but she sat down and bit into the cake. It melted across her tongue. "I have dreams of words. They dance and split and marry. Then the Emperor comes and orders the 'i' to lop off it's head."

Oona patted her shoulder. "Maybe you want to ask the boss for a break. It can't be good for you to do this."

She shook her head and took a long sip of water. "I can't. Everyone's overworked. We're just a small press, but the noble trials? Those are selling and it's all anyone wants to hear. But they just keep coming and we, we are not a gossip rag, so the boss wants us to fact check. Rather stupid... but if the noble worked somewhat nearby, then I'm off to do interviews. Haven't been home in two days."

Rick cut another slice of cake. "Call in sick. You look like you haven't slept in a week."

"I slept," she muttered as her eyes threatened to close. "A few minutes then and there... on the train. Or at my desk. And I can't call in sick. This is the story of a lifetime."

"If you say so. Want a beer?" At her nod, he stood up. "Have you heard from the kid? Or Area Two? The news has been strangely quiet there and even the people I talk to, those that have family up there, haven't heard back."

Gwen frowned and accepted the beer. "No. I got a letter back a while ago, but Lelouch... That boy is terrible at writing unless it's to his sister. Allie's last letter said he got caught up with whatever is happening in Area Two. They're not saying we aren't supposed to be talking about it... but there's a fair share of pressure. Travel prices to Area Two have skyrocketed as well."

Oona leaned back. "I know. Mother was quite upset since we used to sell some harvest up North, but now it's too expensive for much of anything. No frivolous travel right now. But really, would that Count person attack in the winter?"

"Rumor has it, he has," Gwen whispered. "We can't confirm much, but the online chatter says the Count won a massive victory up North. Of course, the comments don't stay up long. I'm worried."

Rick finished his cake and sighed. "The kid can take care of himself. With his brains, he probably landed some cushy mail job far from the action."

* * *

_ Dear Lelouch, _

_ I know you're feeling bad for missing my birthday, but I understand your job makes it hard to get leave when you wish it. I had fun with Allie and the student council. You should write to Gwen more. Allie says she’s super stressed and busy right now. Your present, the embroidered tree, is wonderful! I have no idea how it looks, although Allie's giggling tells me much of what she perceives to be your stitching skills. I really love feeling the threads and knowing you put all this time and effort into it. Next time you try, make sure to wrap your fingers. I can smell the blood. Really, you have to take better care of yourself. Mother would be very upset with you. _

_ The big news with Seymour was really shocking although I'm glad that they took care of it. Shirley helped me come up with an idea to do a charity event. The funds are going to be used to help the people that lived on his lands. Everyone is really excited.  _

_ Lulu, please stay safe. Shirley says things aren't as calm as the media is saying and I want you to be alright. Don't take any unnecessary risks. _

_ Love, _

_ Your Sister _

* * *

**Obaska, Area 2**

Edgar's squadron was officially no more. Both Roy and Lelouch had been promoted and put in charge of new squadrons with fresh soldiers who couldn't be trusted with their guns. At least Roy still had Frederick; Lelouch had Henry, with Alex trailing afterwards whenever communications offered an opportunity. Edgar himself had finally transferred to medical and was learning under Sergeant Tamay who watched him with distrustful eyes. Despite their less than amicable relationship, Sergeant Tamay was one of the most knowledgeable medics that Edgar had the fortune of meeting. He could triage a patient and determine the best treatment within seconds..

Sometimes when Edgar dressed the wounds quickly and Sergeant Tamay needed to tend to his own patients, he would share stories of past patients and their diagnosis. If Sergeant Tamay was feeling particularly benevolent, he would list symptoms and explain how their presence ruled out various diagnoses or made others more likely. Unwilling to forget potentially crucial information, Edgar took diligent notes in the time after.

It was these interactions that let Edgar finally understand how Lelouch could walk through the entire camp and never pause or feel awkward. Sergeant Tamay was an Honorary Britannian, but in knowledge, he could give a Britannian doctor a run for their money. Due to his heritage, Sergeant Tamay would never move beyond a simple army medic in a no-name division and finally, Edgar understood why Lelouch's eyes would flash at the word Number. They were people... all of them. 

Edgar finished writing down his last notes on Sergeant Tamay's aside on a disease he called epilepsy. He had never heard of it before, but then, Britannia was not accommodating to those who failed to meet the norm. While it was unlikely Edgar would treat a soldier suffering from the condition, there was always the minute possibility, so he took care to write it down. All knowledge had the potential to save someone and his own laziness would not be his patient's downfall.

Sergeant Tamay cleared his throat and Edgar snapped the book shut, shooting to his feet at attention. "Sorry Sir. Won't happen again. What can I do?"

"You were writing it down... all of it," Sergeant Tamay said.

His mouth dry, Edgar responded, "I thought it could be important. I want to make the best of the knowledge you impart on me."

"I told you about epilepsy, a useless diagnosis." Sergeant Tamay held out his hand expectantly and Edgar relinquished his book. "And... you wrote it down anyway." He flipped through the pages, his face impassive. 

Edgar shifted his weight from foot to foot and pressed his lips together as he watched Sergeant Tamay read. "I'm sorry Sir if I wasn't supposed to."

"You wrote down every lesson..." Sergeant Tamay snapped the book shut and for the first time actually looked at Edgar, examining him fully. "What is your goal?"

"I want to be the best medic I can be... and later, a doctor."

Sergeant Tamay crossed his arms and took a quick glance at the med beds behind them. "No one will accept a doctor taught by a Number. Nor will they accept you as an apprentice. Your practice will be considered tainted. I suggest you request a transfer."

Edgar's lip trembled and he forced himself to stand perfectly still... like Lelouch would. Lelouch had known that there was value in the people around them long before Edgar had realized. He freely associated with Pablo and even aided them in circumventing the law because he thought it was unfair. Edgar did not have the kind of strength to do what he thought was right. He did not have the courage to fight and face a court martial on the vain hope of saving everyone. That was Lelouch's thing: throwing social norms to the side in order to reach his goal.

His squadron, even though they were no longer officially together, all had goals for which they would fight for. Edgar wanted to stand behind them and offer them support. He would be there to tend their wounds when they inevitably got hurt. Edgar would never fight the larger battle or work against the machine, but he would sacrifice his own future for his friends. He had followed Lelouch when Roy had declared his intent because he wanted to protect them. They were idiots with no regard for their own safety.

"No. I want to learn under you."

"I'm an Honorary Britannian... a Number. You would waste your talents under my tutelage? Your passion?" Sergeant Tamay glowered.

Edgar's voice trembled as he replied, "I want to save people now."

"Why?"

"My squadron, well former squadron, they're out there fighting. They'll get hurt and if I can't help them, then the least I can do is save them."

Sergeant Tamay continued to glower, the question obviously not being satisfactory. "And the rest of your patients? Will they fall to the wayside so you can treat your Britannian buddies?"

"Of course not," Edgar replied reflectively and then snapped his mouth shut. If he had to prioritize patients, could he with his friends lying in pain... and possibly dying if he moved too slow. Would he be able to make the decision to cut them off as a lost cause if their injuries were too difficult to treat? Their lives would be in his hands, so would every other soldier and officer. He couldn't afford to give preferential treatment.

"A medic isn't easy, kid. Now get out. I will not have a distracted student playing doctor." Sergeant Tamay turned around and walked to a patient with a wet cough. 

Bronchitis, Edgar's mind supplied.

Glancing at the other patients curled on their sides from pain or staring blankly at the ceiling, Edgar couldn't step away. They were people too and just as deserving of life as his friends.

He ran after Sergeant Tamay and bowed from his waist. "My apologies sir. I will not let my personal feelings interfere with treatment. Please sir, I beg you, allow me to be your student."

Sergeant Tamay spun around and pushed him into the small alcove. "Idiot," he hissed and pulled on his ear. "Never do that again kid. If the officers get wind of a Number making a Britannian bow, they'll have my head... Brits, never thinking things through."

"I'm sorry," Edgar mumbled, his face burning. 

"And why are you so insistent, kid to learn from me? Writing everything down... You are never going to get anywhere with  _ me _ as your teacher. Find a better use for your skills."

Edgar straightened and rolled back his shoulders. "I want to help people now. I cannot stand by and know that I threw away the chance to learn what would have saved them."

Sergeant Tamay clasped his hands together and stared up at the dipping ceiling. "You're the one who came in with the runts. The child's idiocy is contagious."

"Child?" Edgar asked, thrown by his superiors sudden tiredness.

Rolling his eyes, Sergeant Tamay answered, "First lesson. Learn when someone is lying. Patients lie all the time, especially about their health. Don't want to get dismissed and cut their paychecks to their family short after all. And your friend, Lamperouge, is most certainly not fourteen. Or the orphan."

"Oh," Edgar whispered. He had simply assumed they weren't physically inclined and that Alex had suffered from serious malnutrition. 

"Yes,  _ oh _ . If you care for them, convince them to take the Crown Prince's offer. They're underage. They have a chance to escape this hell."

Thinking back to Lelouch's vehement hatred towards his parents and, from what it seemed, a rather complicated relationship, Edgar doubted that his friend would take the opportunity. And Alex? He was running from something scary enough that he considered the military as an appropriate escape.

Turning around, Sergeant Tamay said, "If you care for them, find a way to convince them. Come on, the patients won't tend to themselves. You can deal with the idiot who forgot to wear gloves."

* * *

_ Battle of Val-d’Or _

_ November 13, 2012 _

_ Britannian Retreat _

_ Britannian Soldiers Lost: 1,231 _

_ Britannian Injured: 3,456 _

_ Crows Lost: ~457 _

_ Crows Captured: 16 _

_ Crows Injured: Unknown _

_ Civilian Casualties: 352 _

_ Summary: The Count mounted a two pronged attack at midnight under the cover of the storm. The sentries were unable to get a warning out on time and the army was forced to retreat North.  _

_ Request: We need immediate aid to contain the Count and Crows. _

* * *

**Viceroy's Palace, Tokyo, Area 11**

Jeremiah sat silently as Prince Clovis led the discussion on how to regain the trust of the people after the Seymour Scandal. It was a tedious affair and despite having taken a recess earlier for lunch, they were no closer to a solution than when they had begun. His face was perfectly impassive, like any Margrave Gottwald should be. It was the face that his father had worn for so long until it never could be taken off. He had been five when he saw the man's last genuine smile, but it was wrong to speak ill of the dead... and Jeremiah had loved his father.

They disagreed at times, violently so, but his father always made time for dinner and frivolous discussion to put him at ease. His father had been a good man... and had been murdered because of some foolish terrorist's subterfuge. It hadn't even been a glorious and honorable death on the battlefield that his father wished for. Jeremiah had promised his father that if he ever became too old and feeble, that he would arrange a duel, so that he could die with honor. 

That promise had been taken away. Underneath the table, Jeremiah's hands clenched and his fingernails bit into his soft skin. The pain felt good and soothed the urge to do something, anything. He wanted to be out there in Area Two, finding the coward at fault... He would kill the Count and deny the man of any dignity when the final battle came. It was the duty of the Gottwald heir... but instead, he was stuck in useless meetings.

Only Margrave Greenford's suggestion to go to Area Eleven and destroy the Numbers who had dared to attempt to harm the wonderful glorious Lady Marianne, kept him in his seat. Still, even on that front, he had made no progress. Despite leading the Purist Party in Area Eleven and forming them into a powerful knightmare battalion, he was no closer to being in the action. He didn't even know how he would begin his search for the traitorous Numbers, and he wouldn't undermine Lady Marianne's authority, by destroying them all for their sins. She had left them alive for a reason and halted her own executions. He would respect that.

Now, if only there wasn't so much politics involved.

Even the knights he trained were slippery snakes who searched for any weakness. The Purists had respected his father, but Jeremiah had done nothing of worth except being the guard who failed to keep Lady Marianne from harm. Even if he didn't have such a failure marring his record, his service to the so-called Commoner Empress did not endear him to the Purists. If he wanted to be of use, he needed someone loyal.

Lord Ashford moved to speak and Jeremiah turned his head to better watch the man. This had been Lady Marianne's mentor for many years and he had personally developed the knightmare. Rumor had it that he was holding off on the next generation because it would upend the entire market. Yet for all his business prowess, Lord Ashford did not often speak in the meetings. He preferred to catch a word later and talk over his ideas personally. It was an effective strategy that did not reveal his personal beliefs, but relied on his connection to Lady Marianne and Prince Clovis.

Prince Clovis sent a sharp look at the other lord who had moved to speak as well, and picked up his favorite pen. "Gentlemen, please, everyone will have a chance to speak. Lord Ashford, I'm sure, has many wise things to say."

Lord Ashford sent a small smile to the prince and gazed down the table. "It has been over a year since Britannia has conquered Area Eleven. The locals have only begun to accept our presence and then Seymour's crimes removed any progress we made."

A haughty noble sniffed. "Really. If you hadn't revealed the crimes, we would not be in this mess. It's your fault."

Jeremiah clenched his jaw and made note of the man. Seymour's crimes had been inexcusable. Any suggestion otherwise was an affront on their honor.

"I did my duty as the Margrave of Tokyo and reported the earl to His Majesty. His Majesty saw it as an affront to his own honor and acted accordingly. This is not pertinent to the discussion at hand." 

Jeremiah could only watch in wonder as Lord Ashford brushed off the declaration that he had the Emperor's ear.

"I suggest we offer the Numbers an appeasement. Normally, we would wait a few years to establish the Honorary Britannian program, but in these dire times, I propose we commence with haste."

The room burst into chaos as Prince Clovis leaned back with a thoughtful expression and his gaze wandered to a beautiful painting on the wall. Jeremiah could not recognize the art style, but he knew the prince had been educated abroad at his mother's request. It was quite possibly foreign and if so, the brazen act of showcasing such a painting made Prince Clovis's personal beliefs quite clear. 

The arguments were pointless. Prince Clovis had already made up his mind. 

The Numbers would become Honorary Britannians and Jeremiah couldn't hide his small frown. Terrorists were still abound and those who had sought to kill Lady Marianne remained free. With the Honorary Britannian program, the perpetrators would have access to even more resources. But Lord Ashford had taught Lady Marianne... 

For the Purists, Jeremiah would put up a token effort of resistance. His loyalty would always be to Lady Marianne. As long as she remained close to Lord Ashford, Jeremiah didn’t dare to hinder the man.

* * *

_ Emperor's Sky _

_ Seymour Court Cases Drawn Out _

_ By: Gwen Welch _

_ December 2, 2012 _

_ The Seymour Incident has caused massive upheaval as various noble titles are stripped and redistributed to those who hold the Emperor's favor. From what we can ascertain, these nobles are generally friendlier to commoners and are in line with Lord Ashford's policies. While we had hoped to see the situation resolved before Christmas, it looks like trials will be drawn out far into the next year as the prosecutors continue to collect more damning evidence and defense attorneys plead for more time. _

_ Few nobles have been acquitted and many more have opted for a plea bargain. While it may dismay some of our readers that these criminals are allowed to continue to walk the Earth, they have been sufficiently demoted and exiled within their own families. I too must admit that I wish for more thorough punishment, but the plea bargains bring new disturbing information to light which helps us catch the truly despicable criminals. _

_ Today, the trial of Lady Judkin, Margrave of Florida, commenced. She has pleaded not guilty and continues to be adamant in her claims despite evidence implicating her. Lady Judkin is assumed to be guilty despite circumstantial evidence given the numerous other positive convictions from the prosecution. _

_ ... _

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Allie shielded Nunnally as she guided her through the crowd. The tents of the Christmas Festival towered over them in their colorful glory. Fire pits crackled and melted the thin powdery snow in a smooth circle around them. Banners flew above their heads and lights dangled. 

Allie had to admit that Millie knew how to throw an impressive and effective festival.

"Allie, let's get some hot chocolate." Nunnally pulled on her hand and her head tilted upwards as she sniffed the air.

Pausing, Allie could smell the sweet scent of chocolate drifting through the air. Her stomach grumbled. "Chocolate is expensive."

Nunnally's face fell as she fished out her wallet and began running her fingers along the coins inside. She snapped the wallet shut with a blinding smile. "I'll pay."

"But Nunnally," Allie protested as her friend began to pull her along, "that's your birthday money! You're supposed to use it on yourself."

Stopping before the hot chocolate stand and its decadent aroma, Nunnally shook her head and stepped forward. "Two hot chocolates please."

"Nunnally," Allie hissed and tried to turn to the vendor, "sorry sir, but we'll—"

Nunnally took a step forward and her back straightened as she tilted her head upward and ordered, "Don't worry. I'll pay."

"Forty pounds, miss," the seller said. The sign beside him clearly stated one hot chocolate for fifteen.

"Really sir?" Nunnally replied dryly and she squeezed Allie's hand in reassurance. "You're trying to rip me off."

The teller leaned forward and scowled. "That's the price, girly. Pay up or run off."

"Your contract stated that you would sell your product for fifteen and donate five pounds for every cup sold. I was the one who passed it to Lady Ashford. I would hope you're not violating that contract."

Allie had to admire the efficient take down of the salesman. While Allie was always willing to help, Nunnally hardly ever needed it. She prided herself on self-sufficiency and constantly sought ways to make an impact. Everyone could always see Nunnally even though she couldn't see them. 

Sometimes, standing next to her friend, Allie felt invisible. Nunnally had a certain mannerism that drew everyone's attention and allowed none to be forgotten. In comparison, Allie was nothing. She could only act as support and her talents were nothing compared to her friend's.

Passing her a hot chocolate, Nunnally began to pull her along as she followed her nose. Allie, used to her friend's quirks, gently nudged her to the side to help avoid oncoming traffic. A few glowered at them as they saw her friend’s unfocused, but beautiful purple eyes. They passed through the crowd unhindered. 

The scent of melting cheese and fresh bread fluttered into her nose: pizza. Allie shook her head fondly. Her friend was too food obsessed. 

A large towering and swaying stack of pizzas with a flash of green approached and Allie pulled Nunnally to the side, spilling hot chocolate over her hands.

"Who eats that much pizza?" Allie asked, flabbergasted.

Nunnally bounced on her feet as she tilted her head to the side. "I remember my mother complaining of a friend once... I was supposed to be asleep. I don't think I was supposed to hear her and father. Father was apparently rather upset how many gourmet pizzas Mom was buying for her."

Allie shook her head, her hair flying loose around her. "How many pizzas?"

"Twenty-two in one week," Nunnally whispered. "Father thought it was utterly ridiculous."

"Twenty-two." Allie gaped. "How can anyone afford that?"

The bounce in her step disappeared. It had been the wrong question to ask. Whenever Nunnally talked of the past, she would withdraw as if realizing that it wasn't something to be shared. Knowing that a secret hung between them stung. Allie would never betray her, but she had no idea how to prove it.

"I must have misheard," Nunnally replied. "It was probably just two pizzas."

"Of course," Allie replied. 

Sometimes she imagined what Nunnally's great secret could be. Perhaps she was the daughter of an OSI agent and her absent parents went on secret missions abroad. Maybe her brother was an alien and her family lived on a royal grant to keep him from spying eyes. Conceivably, Nunnally and her family was a lost branch of French royalty biding their time to retake power. 

Allie would learn the truth one day. Undoubtedly, the secret would not be like the ones she imagined and more mundane such as a criminal background. Allie would wait.

"Allie, come on. We're here to have fun. I can hear the next pizza is coming out! And I'm getting you a slice," Nunnally shouted and pulled her right up the stand and the large brick oven behind it.

"I'll pay," she protested. "The money is your birthday present. Stop spending it all on me!"

Nunnally beamed as she reached up to the handkerchief from her brother tucked into her collar. "You're my best friend! Who else am I going to spend it on?"

"Yourself. Use it to buy a present for yourself like your parents intended." Allie could feel her cheeks flame in embarrassment as others turned to look. 

Reaching out, Nunnally pulled her into a hug. "I don't need anything like fancy clothes or food. I just want to hear you laugh." She stepped back and tugged her closer to the mouth watering aroma that could only be surpassed by the sweet and citric smell of oranges. "People are what matter the most. Everything else can be replaced, but not people."

Allie's mother had said something similar during the cold winter after a particularly bad harvest. She remembered feeling rather confused at the statement. Family was always there... but that had been before her older brother had begun to wander off. 

"I'll be your friend even if you don't spend money on me Nunnally. I enjoy your company."

Like a shooting star, a brief smile crossed her smile. "Don't worry. I just want to."

Friends always came first. Despite the mysteries and secrets around the Lamperouge family, Allie would stand beside them.

Nothing would separate her from Nunnally

* * *

_ French Meddler _

_ Blog Post by Alexandre Danse  _

_ January 12, 2013 _

_ As I'm sure, everyone has witnessed the chaos in Britannia over the past months. The Emperor, for years, failed to stop Seymour’s criminal schemes. I expected the Britannians to be outraged and for them to understand why the E.U. must continue to oppose Britannia in every move. That reaction never came. Seymour's crimes were despicable, beyond reprehensible, but swept away within a day. _

_ Britannia is corrupt to its core and the show of strength from the Emperor only proves this. The trials that claim to deliver justice are a sham. Nobles plead guilty and walk away with a slap on the wrist. If such injustice occurs when Britannia knows the E.U. is watching, how long did they intend for Seymour to walk free? As a surveillance state where everything is known, Britannia must have been aware of his actions. They only acted when E.U. intelligence delivered the information and forced Britannia to act. _

_ Instead of seeing this as a sign of justice from Britannia, and moral fiber, we should understand the true gravity of the situation. Britannia let this monster roam free and while we may have rid the world of him, there are countless others to take his place. If we wish to put an end to this spectacle of human rights abuse, the E.U. must take decisive action and see through Britannia's foolish posturing. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with betaing.
> 
> As I said, this chapter is a little a different. Originally, I intended to make a one chapter long interlude, but I ended up chopping it into three chapters. There also won't be any worldbuilding thoughts for these.
> 
> What does everyone think of seeing the perspective of some side characters? I adore all your comments. Even if it's a simple thank you.
> 
> See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )


	27. Kaleidoscope Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**La Motte, Area 2**

Alex listened to a harsh caw over the rustle of fabric from 712th Division helping the 256th Division set up camp. Reinforcements had finally arrived, but the new soldiers' sneering glances and scrunched noses extinguished any joy Alex felt at their arrival. The 256th wasn't there to help them, but to put an end to the Count once and for all. The Emperor must have grown tired of them fleeing further North with each attack of the Count. 

The 712th had failed... and now the 256th had arrived to clean up their mess.

Alex tried to not concern himself with the affairs of haughty men. He had his own worries: mainly Lelouch. While Alex had desperately tried to convince Lelouch to specialize in communications, and Lelouch had even accepted Sergeant Malfoire's tutelage, Lelouch remained on the front lines. He was a leader and for this, Alex's heart despaired. He wanted his first friend to be safe, but the Empire seemed intent on making that impossible.

Catching sight of Edgar sitting outside the med tent, Alex checked for watching officers, and jogged over. 

Edgar paused in peeling the foil off his meal. "You do know you're going to get into trouble? I thought you're on duty right now?"

Alex huffed and sat down. "Please. The 256th don't want our help anyway. And if anyone has any trouble with me slacking, they'll send the complaint to Sergeant Malfoire. He slacks too much to berate me over it."

"Well, we're definitely lucky with our supervisors, even if Sergeant Tamay will skin me alive if he catches me slacking."

"You're on break and you never slack," Alex replied. "Seriously, you're bad as Lelouch with knowing when to take time off."

"I'm dedicated. Lelouch is bullheaded. And you, kid, never do as you're told."

Alex crossed his arms. "Sergeant Malfoire says I'm a great student. He says we'll be moving away from paperwork soon... and if I succeed, I can get a promotion. Then I won't be the baby of the group."

"Trust me. You and Lelouch will always be the babies. Things are going to get more dangerous, so stick to paperwork.... or admit you're underage."

"I'm fifteen," Alex said reflexively and his casual smile froze.

"Right. And I'm the Emperor." Edgar ran his hand through his hair and quickly checked his watch. "I'm not going to tell. But please, think about it. I care for you Alex. You're like a little brother. You and Lelouch. We came together because of each other and I'd say we’re close friends. Even if we aren't a squadron anymore, I'm still going to look out for you. Being in the 712th and toiling away endlessly only to die in the middle of nowhere? Nobody deserves that."

A shiver tore down his spine and Alex hugged himself tighter. No. He couldn't leave. Leaving meant going back to the street where  _ she  _ was. He hadn't done anything to deserve such attention. But every street rat knew that those enticed by her promises of food and warmth never returned. If only she hadn't been so persistent. The contract kept him safe... but if she discovered him in the middle of nowhere with a contract that could now be dissolved due to age, Alex was screwed.

"No," Alex said firmly. "I'm staying. Besides, someone needs to cover Lelouch's ass."

"Then try to convince him at least?" Edgar begged. "Trouble flocks to him like bees to honey."

"He has his reasons," Alex whispered. "I have mine. I'll respect his. It's what a friend does."

Edgar glanced at his watch again, shook his head, and stood up. "Alex, sometimes being a friend means knowing when to push. Lelouch denies his feelings, but they're there. Remember the sword? He keeps running from the past."

The heavy gaze bore into Alex and he dropped his head to observe the shards of glass poking through the snow.

"In the past week, he's been in medical twice with minor injuries. Maybe it’s nothing; maybe it's something. I don't know. He won't talk to me, but he'll talk to you."

Alex's mouth dried. Lelouch had been acting off when they met for meal times, but he always seemed so happy to him that Alex had thought nothing of it. Reflecting on it, Alex remembered the forced smiles and the subtle flinch whenever Sergeant Malfoire approached. Surely it was nothing. 

As Alex looked up at Edgar and saw his serious face, his heart sank. If Edgar, who struggled to understand folk's intentions, thought something was wrong... 

He had done a disservice to his friend. 

"I'll talk to him." No. He wouldn't. Lelouch would lie; it was what Alex would do. 

Edgar straightened and a fond smile bloomed. "Thank you, Alex. Thank you. I need to go, but... could you keep Lelouch and Roy from doing anything too rash?"

Snorting, Alex asked, "You mean like murdering Colonel Fortescue?"

"Not so loud," Edgar hissed and hurriedly glanced around. "But yes. Keep them out of trouble. And if you run into Frederick, remind him that he promised me dinner."

Alex rolled his eyes, but gave a mocking salute. Of course, having chosen to focus on communications meant he served as everyone's personal carrier pigeon. 

Operation:  _ Help Lelouch _ started without much fanfare. Alex forged Sergeant Tamay's signature on a note claiming he had contracted food poisoning and was freed from the day's work. Alex had long mastered the art of not being seen and no one raised an eyebrow at his absence... or even bothered to consult with Sergeant Tamay. 

Finding Lelouch and trailing him without being seen proved to be harder. Lelouch surrounded himself with others and flitted between groups. He joked with Pablo, charmed Numbers to aid him, and insulted a pair of officers without them being any wiser. When Alex stood by Lelouch's shoulder, he had seen him navigate the world seamlessly, but as a distant observer, Lelouch's actions felt calculated and lost much of their charm. Alex wondered if Lelouch realized he navigated the world with the instincts of a conman. 

Alex learned much trailing Lelouch. Unfortunately, most of it wasn't about him. Alex learned that Pablo's friend Jon ran the black market, Frederick needed red candles for some reason, and that the cook smuggled food from the village. At dinner time, Alex skipped his normal meal with Lelouch and watched his friend look briefly for him, before sitting down with his new squadron. While they ate, Alex sat hunched over his soup and listened half-heartedly. 

Setting his spoon down, Alex glowered at the soup. Something strange was going on.

It shouldn't have been so easy to follow Lelouch and gather information. 

Alex had only watched people before to decide whether to snag their wallets. It was a useful skill as his heavy pockets attested to, but not one that lent itself to continuous surveillance. Even now, sitting at a table across from his target, Alex was invisible. He had shifted his cap, stuffed napkins up his sleeves to change his silhouette, and sat next to a fellow short soldier to mask his lack of height. A year ago, none of these considerations would have crossed his mind.

Lelouch excused himself and Alex followed from a distance growing more confused as his friend passed by his tent. Their path meandered through camp, the flickering lamps were slowly extinguished, and Alex found it more difficult to blend in with the ever decreasing number of people. Alex ducked behind a tent and watched Lelouch continue to walk forward. He bit his lip as he recognized where Lelouch was heading: the prisoners. It didn't make sense, but Alex followed anyway. Lelouch was his friend and he would not betray him... even if it meant treason.

Footsteps crunched over the snow and Alex's brow furrowed as he recognized the figure carrying a lamp.

Sergeant Malfoire spoke, but the familiar and pleasing tone was nowhere to be found. "A new year, a new attitude? What do you say Lelouch?"

Lelouch froze. "No sir."

"My patience tires, but please, lead the way."

The footsteps receded and Alex's heart hammered within his chest. Lelouch never warmed up to Malfoire. He flinched when the man approached. Long ago, he returned from a meeting with a broken finger. 

His stomach churned and Alex listened to the footsteps, too afraid to follow. He had encouraged Lelouch to accept Malfoire's guidance. The man's footsteps were perfectly measured and too quiet… Alex had pushed his best friend into the grasp of a predator that he had been too stupid to see. 

Their footsteps faded and Alex stood up. Under the dim light, he tracked their steps as they turned left from the prisoners and stopped outside of a trailer: a communications trailer. Maybe Alex's gut was wrong? Maybe Lelouch was receiving extra lessons?

No. 

The skills needed to tail Lelouch throughout the day hadn't developed out of the blue. Alex had been practicing them for months as he was ordered to carry messages through the camp. Malfoire had challenged him to be faster and move so he would never be interrupted on a mission. Malfoire had quizzed him on who he had passed. Malfoire had asked him to identify someone disguised in a panel of photographs. Alex had been played as a fool.

Communications... the OSI.

Alex knew the stories. They were elite agents of the Empire capable of tracking down anyone and bringing them to justice. On the streets, they whispered that the screams from the house behind the flowering bushes and towering trees belonged to criminals who caught the Empire's attention. The man and his wife living there had been sweet folks who every Sunday fed the street rats. There was another house where someone who entered never left. Older kids liked to share horror stories where the OSI would hang their victims from their thumbs until they confessed. And when Old Man Grazt—who knew everything and helped anyone — ended his life, the rumors whispered it had been the OSI who provided the rope.

Malfoire, if that was even his name, was a liar.... and possibly an OSI agent. 

If that was true? Bile rose in Alex's throat. He had sacrificed Lelouch to the wolves and Malfoire was preparing Alex as dessert.

Of course, he could be mistaken. 

The trailer mocked Alex as he stood idly by. 

The truth was inside if he had the courage to face it. Alex had never been a fighter. He preferred to sneak or charm his way by. It was safer to con someone and escape with their wallet than jump them. 

Pulling out a pair of pins stashed in his boot, Alex picked the lock and cracked the door open. Light spilled from beneath a heavy curtain and Alex softly clicked the door shut behind him. The sinking feeling in his gut got worse as he observed the walls covered in foam in the dim light. Even the door was reinforced.

"You can step forward anytime, Lelouch," said Malfoire as if he was offering a plate of cookies.

Alex froze and his hand crept back to the door knob. 

"He is a traitor to the crown. Shouldn't you care for that?" Malfoire paused. "No? Since you care so much for the ants, how many did you lose in the last attack? You're angry. Don't lie."

Finally, Lelouch spoke. "I refuse to be like my father. This man is a citizen of Britannia and should face a trial for his crimes. It is not my place to dispense justice."

Curious, Alex crept across the floor and peeked beneath the curtain. A young man, barely older than Edgar, cowered in the corner with manacles secured around his feet. Dried blood caked the ground and Alex covered his mouth. He had no idea what Lelouch's father had to do with this, but his friend shouldn't be with Malfoire. What had Alex done?

Malfoire crouched down as he trailed a finger along the captive. "It is your place Lelouch. And as I said, I tire of your stubbornness. Perhaps Alex would be more amenable to standing where you are right now. He is progressing well in his lessons."

Understanding dawned on Alex and he forced himself to stay frozen as every fiber of his body burned to flee. Lelouch, the idiot, was protecting him. 

Malfoire had never cared for Alex, despite what he had so desperately hoped and yearned. He thought that Malfoire would finally be one of the good ones. It had felt right. But no, looking at Malfoire circling Lelouch eagerly, Alex realized he had always been the bait. It was Lelouch that Malfoire wanted and Alex just provided the convenient leverage.

Lelouch stood still; his posture unreadable. 

"I asked you once if you would kill your dear friend Roy to save Alex. You never answered that. But will you hurt your enemy to save him? It is such a small cost."

Staggering backwards, Lelouch snarled. "No. You're asking me to become a torturer. I refuse to become a monster to satisfy your delusions. I will uphold the law."

"This is the law. The OSI belongs to the Emperor; we are the pawns to carry out his will."

"I refuse to be that man's pawn," Lelouch hissed. 

"Well, I'm sure you can become a knight."

Alex held his breath as his brow furrowed. Vital pieces of information were at play, but flew over his head. That something Alex suspected was because of Lelouch's family. Perhaps they were connected to the OSI and that was how Lelouch knew so much. His father could be a senior OSI agent and Lelouch didn't want to follow in his footsteps, 

"I would rather join the Crows than participate in this farce you call justice and human decency."

Malfoire's hand snapped out, pushing Lelouch against the wall. "Treason? I would watch your words."

"I thought you asked for no lies."

Malfoire chuckled but didn't release his grip. "Are you so eager to be on the other side of justice Lelouch. Should I give you another taste?"

The blood drained out of Lelouch's face and his eyes widened. Alex's fists clenched. He should be doing something. That was his friend pinned against the wall. 

He didn't move.

"You can't," Lelouch said, shaking his head. "You can't."

"Of course I can... unless you're finally going to write to your mother and spill the beans. You could have written a letter a long time ago and stopped the game. But you didn't. So either you accept that your parents need to bail you out or you face the consequences of your actions." Malfoire abruptly stepped back. "You have until next next month."

Seeing Malfoire approach the prisoner, Alex slipped back. Screams pierced the air as the door shut behind him. He ran past seven tents before collapsing to the ground and emptying his stomach. 

What could Alex do against the OSI? He was just a kid.

* * *

_ Quebec Questions _

_ The Count, Crows, and a Consideration of Public Policy; Opinion Piece _

_ January 18, 2013 _

_ As I'm sure many readers are by now aware, Area Two has been beset by the Count and his mob. He claims to stand for our freedom, yet his actions necessitated the army moving in and for our own freedoms to be curtailed.  _

_ I will gladly obey curfew if it means that my safety can be assured, but yet, how can the Count stand for us, if he imposes upon us draconian restrictions. The Count has made no official requests and it seems his ideology would see our proud nation razed to the ground. Britannia has no choice but to fight as the Count leaves no room for negotiations.  _

_ In his quarrel (for personal speculation, see our earlier article: The Count's Mysterious Past and Plans for the Future) he sweeps through those who are innocent. His terrorism means my two daughters can longer walk to the local parish school in eace and that I must accompany them, to ensure their safety is not compromised. Every day, the local news reports of actions caused by this mob mentality that grips Area Two and it cannot go on. _

_ To stop the Count and his endless local aid that hinders the military, we must consider the true source of his support. The Count himself proclaims no ideology but speaks of the general sentiments held by all commoners. At times, I hear his words and wish for him to succeed. It's this what makes the count the most dangerous enemy Britannia has ever faced. The Count knows what people desire and they're so desperate for change that they believe he can liberate them. Unfortunately, it is impossible to convince every supporter of his that the Count is simply an elaborate con-man pulling at their heart strings and bringing back stories of the nostalgic good old days where France once ruled.  _

_ To defeat the Count, it is essential that we give people an alternate avenue in which they can move to change their circumstances. The Emperor has already moved to weaken the Nobles and cut out the corruption that floods their ranks. It is essential that we follow this momentum to request further changes. Margrave Ashford's Academy is a prime example of social reform that greatly benefits the common man. While technically operating as a private school, he now offers to make the first two years free and any diligent student will be allowed to return. Unlike our local schools run by churches and apprenticeships, the education received is of a higher caliber and prepares students to enter the market that was previously closed to most commoners. With Ashford Academy, children must no longer choose a military contract for fifteen years to have an education capable of landing them a well paying job. _

* * *

**Aiguebelle, Area 2**

Roy watched as the Crows tore through their defenses and ordered the retreat of his platoon. There was nothing more that could be done, but to save the lives of his men. 

He gritted his teeth as he picked up his gun and took aim at the Crows in white on the snowy landscape. Being almost invisible to the naked eye had allowed them to sneak upon the Britannian army under the high sun. Everyone expected another night attack in the storm, but the Count was a wily creature. After they had exhausted themselves with increased guards, he attacked the following noon.

Frederick lay on the snowbank besides him as explosions threw snow, ice, and water through the air. A grenade exploded near them, blanketing them in powdered snow. Slush dribbled down the back of Roy’s neck.

The radio crackled. "Hold your position! This is Major Fortescue ordering you to hold your position."

With a heavy heart, Roy cancelled the retreat and watched the Crows tear into the platoon with ease. He, as Lance Corporal, had stationed himself on the hill to provide better tactical support. It meant nothing. 

Searing steam filled the battlefield and Roy pulled Frederick down onto the ground as an explosion rocked the air around them. His ears rang. Frederick's mouth moved as he looked at Roy and waved his hands empathetically, but no sound came out. Frederick looked over his shoulder and pulled Roy to the side, shoveling snow on his skin which he now realized were screaming in pain. 

Frederick shoved a rag in his mouth. 

Had he been screaming? 

His friend lay across him.

The pain ebbed and flowed. Sometimes, it was in his face. Other times he could swear his hands were on fire... or a thousand fire ants had decided to crawl up his foot. The sounds came back more gradually. Other soldiers moaned beside them and an occasional gunshot silenced them.

A man in a hand stitched white uniform passed them by. Despite its poor construction, it was remarkably clean outside of a few recent smudges of black soot and red stains. Roy wondered how much pride the man must have had to wear the uniform and keep it so meticulously clean. Roy, for all that his family had taught him the importance of appearances, had long given up on keeping his uniform clean. Or perhaps the man was simply new and fresh-eyed.

The Crow passed them by, his gun at ready.

Roy didn't dare to breathe and he could feel Frederick's stiff body above him. His friend had to be alive. Edgar would be devastated otherwise. 

Was Lelouch alright? He had been stationed on the opposite side of the camp, so surely, he would have had some warning and time to create a brilliant plan.

The cloudy sky began to darken and Roy, too afraid to move, watched the clouds drift by.

A soldier — his clean gray Britannian uniform a welcome sight for sore eyes — knelt down beside them. His brown eyes, with a smidge of green, widened and he turned around and hollered, "Found some alive!"

Hurried feet crunched through the snow and Roy could feel Frederick being lifted off of him. Frederick's eyes blinked and he smiled, before it quickly turned into a grimace. Then Roy felt himself lifted into the air, and his skin, once again screamed as hands pushed against him. 

He fell unconscious.

He awoke to Edgar sitting beside him and eating his lunch. "You nearly gave me a heart attack Roy, coming in like that." He set aside his meal and pressed a warm glass of water against his lips. "You have a mild case of frostbite, but also some serious burns. But you're going to be alright... you're going to be fine."

"Frederick?" he rasped.

"Cold did a number on him, but he's alright." Edgar rubbed his arm. "He'll be thrilled to know you're alright."

"My platoon?"

"Besides you and Frederick? Two other survivors. Private Silva will be given an honorable discharge. He's completely deaf."

If Roy had ignored Major Fortescue, then perhaps those men would still be alive. They had been Roy's responsibility and he had let them down. Thirty-six men dead. He would dwell later.

"And Lelouch?"

Edgar rolled his eyes and pointed to the bed opposite of his. "The idiot fractured his clavicle trying to save someone. He's alright, just waiting for me to attend to him, and sulking."

His voice raised on the latter word, and Lelouch, obviously having heard, called back, "I'm not sulking!"

Roy stifled a giggle and propped himself up on his elbows, so he could sit upright. Sometimes, he forgot that Lelouch was so painfully young. "What happened?"

Lelouch clambered out of bed, moving his arms awkwardly and sat down beside him. "We were forced to retreat. We're a few miles from the original camp, but our defenses were completely obliterated. I managed to find some volunteers with Pablo to search the battlefield for any survivors."

At Lelouch’s darkening expression, Roy turned to Edgar.

Edgar said, "Major Fortescue is trying to court martial him again for searching for survivors after the battle was lost." He sighed. "And he added a week to his recovery by ignoring his pain and searching for people with a broken collarbone! He's lucky it isn't worse."

Lelouch attempted to shrug and his eyes closed as he froze with a hitch to his breath.

"For what it's worth Lelouch," Roy said softly, "I am glad that you came looking. You saved our lives."

The smile on his friend's face was too brittle. "Always."

Something was wrong and Roy wanted to say so many things to show he understood. But Roy wasn't Lelouch who would always move forward. Roy had obeyed orders and halted his retreat; it had cost his men their lives. Roy had always known his place in his world. As a Fadiman, he wasn't a simple commoner, yet his family knew to be subservient to other lords. Disobeying risked retaliation. The Fadiman Company was successful because they knew how to balance on the tightrope of interactions between commoners and nobles. 

Roy had grown up with rules drilled into his head and an education almost befitting a noble. Lelouch's background ensured he knew the rules as well, but he continued to mouth off and create enemies as he went. Initially, it had pissed Roy off. How could Lelouch be so flippant and risk his family for the glory of being right? Lelouch hadn’t learned to bow in defeat, but to search for the next opportunity. 

It set them apart: a noble bastard son whose father was overbearing and powerful, and a commoner heir to an international company. 

Yet seeing that brittle smile, Roy wanted to cross the divide. Lelouch had his own demons to contend with and Roy yearned to aid him. Lelouch was young... painfully young. The rules of etiquette curbed his tongue.

* * *

_ Battle of Aiguebelle _

_ January 19, 2013 _

_ Britannian Retreat _

_ Britannian Soldiers Lost: 487 _

_ Britannian Injured: 352 _

_ Crows Lost: ~87 _

_ Crows Captured: 0 _

_ Crows Injured: Unknown _

_ Summary: The Count mounted an ambush under the cover of snow and overran the guarding troops.  _

_ Request: We need immediate aid to contain the Count and Crows. _

* * *

**Sumeragi Shrine, Area 11**

Kaguya woke up at three in the morning according to her glowing, bedside clock. No trucks or birds moved outside. Everything was perfectly silent except for the steady rhythm of bamboo striking stone outside. She should be asleep. 

Kaguya slipped on a robe and crept outside her room. The moon cast long, monstrous shadows through the shoji. Kaguya, forcing images of demons out of her mind, walked past. A small light flickered at the end of the hallway and she tiptoed forward. A clandestine meeting. Exciting.

Voices murmured and she stood by the fusuma with a hand drawn depiction of a tsunami towering over a small village. Reaching for the handle she avoided trailing her fingers along the beautiful drawing. Her father was always displeased at her smearing oil over the priceless heirlooms. She pushed the panel to the side and listened.

" — dare to seek justice, an impertinent nobody like yourself," her father growled.

"Yes," the stranger replied. "You abandoned your nephew and our people. While you sit upon your riches, collaborating with our enemies, I protect your nephew and fight the Brits. They murdered your sister. Does your honor truly allow you to stand by?"

"I have my own daughter's future to worry about. My sister sacrificed herself."

Kaguya clapped her hands over her mouth. Suzaku? Suzaku was alive? She couldn't believe it. The conversation ceased.

"Kaguya," her father called, "return to bed. I'll deal with this interloper."

Her father once said promises had to be kept. Kaguya had been promised to her cousin. If he was alive, she had to see the arrangement through. That was her duty as the Sumeragi heir. She stepped forward into the light. 

The stranger, a soldier with rigid, black hair and harsh, dark eyes observed her. He felt familiar, but she couldn't place him. She bowed—her fingertips pressed together—as a proper lady should. 

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance again Sumeragi-san. I hope you haven't encountered any more demons in the woods."

Her face burned. She had been six and raced back to the Kururugi shrine in fright from the self-proclaimed demon. Her cousin's sensei, Tohdoh, had first listened with alarm and then burst out laughing. "I haven't met Lelouch masquerading as a demon again, Tohdoh-san. How is my cousin?"

Tohdoh ignored her father's glare and took a step forward. "Suzaku is doing as well as he can. Would you like to meet him?"

Her father cut her off before she could reply, "The betrothal is over. Japan is no more. Now you will leave."

"You have brought dishonor on your family." Tohdhoh declared and he marched in front of her father. "I lead the JLF and provide aid to our crumbling communities while you gorge yourself at home."

Kaguya gasped. Rumors of the JLF's prowess were sweeping through the Japanese communities and those, like her family, who dared to become honorary Britannians. Her father always scoffed, insisting that it was a foolish man's dream. Now, Suzaku's sensei stood before them and Kaguya believed him. 

Japan had a chance.

"Father," she said, taking a step forward, "please let us correct our mistakes and assist Tohdoh-san. We have a chance to reclaim Japan."

He turned around. "No. Kaguya, you will leave."

"I refuse," she cried. Japan would stand again. She needed to see it rise. "We must stand by family."

"We're Honorary Britannians now. This is the way forward. Anyone with half a brain will abandon this fool's quest and submit. We lost."

Tohdoh cleared his throat. "We lose when we give up. Japan will not be the same, but without action, we will perish under Britannian rule."

"And you have no idea what Britannia is capable of!" Her father clenched his fists and she knew he was afraid. Their family's submission to Britannia had been sudden. Their family’s submission went against their values. "Kaguya is no longer betrothed to my nephew. She will marry one of the young princes when she comes of age."

No. 

It was one thing to be engaged to her cousin who prefered to ignore her existence, it was another to be engaged to a stranger. A stranger who had conquered her country.

Her father continued. "I have secured my family's future. Now leave Tohdoh, before I reveal your presence to the Brits."

Once Tohdoh left, Britannia would know who the mysterious leader of the JLF was. And Kaguya would be chained in another betrothal with which she had no say. If only she had been born a boy. Then maybe, her father would be more receptive to her desires. 

She could declare her refusal, but her father would never agree. Looking at Tohdoh, she smiled. "That's an amazing opportunity father! Tohdoh-San, please tell my cousin I wish him well. Of course we will support hi — "

" — no, we won't — "

" — out of the public eye. Send a messenger next time. As the leader of the JLF, such tasks should be left to others."

His eyebrows raised, but he inclined his head. "Of course Kaguya-san. It warms my heart to hear you show such care for your cousin. I will allow you to resolve the situation."

As he left, Kaguya took a step away from her father. His angry eyes bore into her as they waited in silence. She could see his fists tightening as he prepared to reprimand her once Tohdoh would have no chance to hear.

She spoke first. "You have three options father: You will commit seppuku for dishonoring our promises, you will break off the engagement and provide JLF the financial support you need to reclaim our honor, or I will run to the Britannians and tell them" — she clasped a hand over her chest — "the sordid tale of discovering my father plotting with the leader of the JLF."

"You would dare?"

There was no future for Kaguya or her family with Britannia. Any minor prince would be exiled or killed when the Emperor died. Her very culture and essence would be stripped away to make her the perfect royal bride. Marrying into the royal family was a losing strategy; one married the Emperor, not his pawn. "You taught me to protect the Sumeragi family, father. If you insist on dooming it, I will remove you. You have your choice."

A night ago, his glare would have her quaking, but she held the cards now. People believed what they expected and what was more believable than a sobbing beautiful child confessing to her father's treason in desperate hope to save her family. 

He scowled, but did not say a word as he walked out.

She had set no timeline but Kaguya couldn't afford to make mistakes. She had to take the initiative. 

Under the guise of going to bed, she slipped back into her room and wore her proper Britannian clothes. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders and she observed herself in the mirror as she took a moment to practise an appropriate expression. 

The crisp air sent a shiver down her spine as she climbed out of her window. A Japanese woman, radiating amusement, stood across from her. Her dark clothes blended into the night and Kaguya swallowed.

The assassin said, "You're doing my job quite well."

"Tohdoh employs an assassin, but talks of honor," she mused. 

The assassin drew a knife and flipped it so she held it by the blade. "Take it. The Shinozaki clan would have loved you. Family first, above all."

"Thank you," Kaguya said as she grasped the knife and bowed. 

"A bit of advice for the new age. Families are what we choose." She turned around. "You have a pretty face dear and you're young. Your opponents will underestimate you. Sell their fantasy and no one will stand in your way."

* * *

_ Chrysanthemum _

_ Perfection by Red Dawn _

_ February 13, 2013 _

_ Let's take a man who we shall name Gustave. He is intelligent and unquestioning, but also loyal to the state and devoted to family. When he walks, women swoon because he is the epitome of perfection. But in his perfection, he of course, cannot look at all those beneath him. _

_ The first maiden, a young beauty with wavy hair, has crooked teeth. Gustave's are straight and pearly white. He cannot blemish the family so he sneers and sends her away. She is not worthy. _

_ The next maiden he meets at the opera and her voice enchants him, but alas, she is nearsighted and Gustave's eyes are perfect so he casts her aside. She is not worthy. _

_ Then on a foggy night, he finds love. Her teeth are straight, her hair settles perfectly on her shoulders, and the eyes are wide and innocent. Her dress made of gold catches his eye and he begs for a dance. Everything is perfect. There are no defects he can see and at the end of the night as the sun rises, he kneels and professes his love. _

_ She is worthy of him. _

_ And she, who has long sought for a gentleman without blemishes, accepts his offer. _

_ The first maiden finds love with a gentleman ailed by an old war scar. They raise three charming children and every night gaze at each other with love. The second maiden forgoes marriage but her clear voice is immortalized on records and with the profits, she begins a school to teach the next generation of singers. The two imperfect maidens who weren't worthy never think of the gentleman again and die surrounded by friends: their funerals well attended. _

_ Gustave and his wife think often of their past suitors and the perfection they saw and forget the blemishes that led them to cast their suitors aside. In the dark night, under moonlight, Gustave stares at his wife as he lies in bed and the sordid mole hidden beneath her godly hair. She isn't perfect and he falls into a restless sleep. Awoken by his icy feet, the wife stares at her husband and sees the first gray ruining his complexion. She too falls asleep. _

_ The morning after, they prepare for the day and Gustave grabs his diamond letter opener, while his wife grabs the rubbing alcohol in the medicine cabinet. At breakfast, she pours it into his glass and sits down to wait. Gustave lays down the knife on the pristine napkin freshly bought. Neither will allow imperfections to ruin their own perfection. _

_ A maid finds them an hour before noon. Gustave lies on the ground like a slumbering god. His perfect ebony hair contrasting with his pale skin. The maid imagines this must be what the god of the underworld looks like. His wife lies on the floor with her perfect hair swept aside and revealing a porcelain neck marred only by a perfect cut. _

_ Perfect in life and death. _

* * *

**Area 11**

Naoto waited patiently for months since the disastrous meeting between his father and Ashford. With the weather growing warmer and the assistant, Thomas, no longer watching him, Naoto finally braved going outside. 

Lord Ashford had overseen his move into a small apartment nearby. Fortunately, Naoto had managed to sneak an old shirt and pair of pants from his room. The essential clothes were now tucked in the bottom of his backpack as Naoto headed outside for his regular long meandering walk and shopping expedition. 

The months had been painful as Naoto felt suspicious gazes track every move. Even in the security of his own apartment, he didn't dare to relax. Cameras and microphones could be anywhere. He couldn't even hug his sister or younger brother. Nathan Walker had no relation to the Stadtfeld family... so Naoto couldn't either.

Before the train station, Naoto slipped into the hurried crowd. He normally took a left and entered a backstreet to begin his walk. The vantage points were limited meaning he could catch sight of a potential tail. Today, Naoto turned right past the clock tower which had replaced an old bookshop that he frequented during his childhood. The crowd jostled him and he ducked into an alleyway filled with construction materials.

With trembling hands, he stripped and thrust his clothes into a shopping bag. A small gap between two crates served as the perfect hiding place. A loose brick covered the entrance. Naoto stood. His clothes were too short. Running his hands through his hair, he disrupted the neat partition. at the end of the alley, he stashed his backpack. Nathan Walker was no more. In his place, stood Naoto Kouzaki with patched clothes and a grocery bag in hand.

Hopefully, his friends hadn't moved on and disappeared into the ghettos. Naoto hadn't risked contacting them for their safety, but now he worried that they thought he betrayed them.

In contrast to Tsukuba, the ghettos of Tokyo buzzed with activity as residents hurried by. Their eyes glimmered with hope and their steps while hurried, their eyes lacked fear. Ashford had helped Tokyo and now, Naoto was betraying him. 

Fighting for Japan was the right thing to do. 

He wanted to hold his siblings close and stand behind them, proud. His mother should not have to hide as a maid. She was a lawyer, a fighter. She deserved better, everyone did. Even his father who so desperately tried to keep his family together as Britannia tore them apart. At least he tried.

"Naoto?" hissed a familiar voice as he walked past the refurbished liquor store.

"Long time no see Ohgi." Naoto beamed at his friend. "I'm sorry for going dark. Didn't want to bring any unfortunate attention to you guys."

Ohgi looked around them and nodded. "Of course. It's good to see you. We were worried."

"Let's catch up," Naoto said as he slung his arm across his old friend's shoulder. "It's been too long. And I don't know about you. But my life has been crazy."

In an apartment with fresh wallpaper and bullet holes, Ohgi poured him a cup of green tea. "What happened, Naoto? I thought the Brits might have gotten to ya, but then there was no news."

Grabbing the cup of tea, Naoto considered his answer. He would need to prove himself trustworthy again. No one could be too careful. "My father made... well, I wouldn't say a mistake, necessarily. But I couldn't be sure that I wasn't being watched and didn't want to risk you guys by contacting you."

"How are your siblings?"

"Don't know really. I have a short phone call with Kallen on Fridays, but it's too risky to be close to them. I miss my brother."

"Close? Because you don't look fully Brit?"

Naoto set down his teacup and leaned back. "Sort of. My father wanted to secure a future for us. A monetary one. Admittedly, it was my fault. I thought he was going to sell off Kallen."

"Your father would never do that," Ohgi said although his eyes were wide. "Right?"

"No. I was mistaken. He had a meeting with Ashford."

Ohgi coughed. " _ The _ Ashford? Margrave of Tokyo? I thought your father was a minor noble!"

"Not so loud you idiot. The walls are paper here. But yes. It was a business deal because Ashford made plenty of his own enemies so he was having trouble moving products. Father thought that a business deal would give us financial security when the truth came out.”

"And it backfired?"

Naoto rubbed the back of the neck and said, "Yeah... That was my fault. I thought he was selling Kallen off and burst in. Father tried to play it off, but Ashford is smart. He knew immediately and weaseled everything out of my father."

"But you're okay?" Ohgi's gaze bore into him.

"We got lucky... You know I met Seymour a while back. He's rotten and then I think... I wonder what could have happened. Ashford could've been Seymour. He could've done anything and with the Emperor's favor? Nobody would have been able to stop him. So we got really lucky and I didn't realize until then. And then more stuff kept coming to light but Ashford wasn't surprised. Nor was Thomas. They expected that level of depravity."

Ohgi set aside the teacup and asked softly, "What happened, Naoto? How did you get involved in all of this."

"Right... bumbling the story am I not? Long story short. Ashford cares shit about blood and forged some documents and now I'm his intern and help with sorting his paperwork and running errands. Next year, he's going to support me in getting my medical license. I'm going to be a doctor."

"That's good." Ohgi's smile didn't reach his eyes. "I was worried. You're too Brit for here, and too foreign for the Brits. But I'm glad that it's working out."

Nato shook his head and leaned across the table. "No. I'm not done fighting Ohgi. I'm never going to be done fighting until my people are free. I don't know if we can become Japanese again, but I'm going to make sure that everyone here has the best life they can. Once I get my medical degree, I'm planning on helping the neighborhood. But I also want to do stuff now. Please?"

Ohgi's wary eyes observed him and he sighed. "Naoto. You went dark. You work with Ashford. Yeah, he's not Seymour, but he's still in charge. How can I trust you? You could be his agent."

"I'm not his agent," Naoto protested weakly. "I didn't choose this, but I have to do what's right. And I know I could be watched, that's why it took so long. Please, just give me a chance. If you need supplies, I have the connections to get them. I can ask Kallen even. She's been complaining about doing nothing worthwhile. Britannian school doesn't agree with her."

Ohgi stood up and returned with a notebook. and offered it silently. Naoto accepted it and his eyes rejoiced at the familiar kanjii. It almost felt like home again.

"I can get the meds," Naoto said. "Weapons are a bit harder, but I'll ask around. I should be able to find a supplier." He set the notebook aside. "Thank you, Ohgi, for giving me the chance."

* * *

_ Ebisu's Lament _

_ The Honorary Britannian Problem _

_ March 3, 2013 _

_ In recent weeks, the Viceroy's opening of the Honorary Britannian program to the general Japanese population has drawn much attention. It offers a way out of poverty and a path to full citizenship for our descendants. With it, legal employment opportunities open and with it, the protection of the law. Britannia has offered the Japanese a peace offering, but there is a hidden cost. _

_ Honorary Britannians sounds nice, but is a vague legal definition subject to the Viceroy's whim. What was once allowed one day, may be stripped the next. The only inherent right an Honorary Britannian has is to marry a Britannian citizen. For this dubious honor, they must swear loyalty to the Emperor and Britannia, and never partake in aspects of their home culture. The latter explicitly forbids speaking Japanese and worshiping Japanese gods. Even traditional food and art are inherently forbidden although the Viceroy has made generous exceptions. _

_ To further the insult against Japan, the Viceroy restricts the program to enlistees and those with special skills. The latter acts as an exception for Britannia to reward traitorous Japanese like Kirihara.  _

* * *

**Shinjuku, Tokyo, Area 11**

Villetta trembled as she watched the men enter her sister's stand at the market. She hadn't meant for this to happen, but the men moved with conviction and dragged a crying Eveline out onto the street.  Nearby pedestrians paused briefly to watch the commotion, before they began to disperse. A single man walked towards them, but when his eyes saw the insignia on their uniforms, he quickly retreated.

Her sister was innocent, perhaps too amenable with the Numbers, but that was her only crime. Politeness couldn't be a crime. 

Villetta had thought they would talk to Eveline and help her understand Numbers were dangerous. Then she could have her sister back and the fighting would end. A simple tip was all it took. 

Why couldn't she move and save her sister?

Separated by a courtyard, her sister's desperate eyes found her among the crowd. Villetta lowered her hat and turned away as a tear slipped through her eyelashes. She should have the courage to at least look at the sister she inadvertently betrayed, instead, she stared at the graffiti marring a nearby wall. 

"Villetta!" her sister screamed. "Please, help me!"

Villetta's nails tore along her palm. She deserved the pain for betraying her sister. Her nails dug in deeper. It wasn't enough. She should turn around and help.

A man approached and she relaxed her hands and wiped the fresh blood on her dark coat. Turning around, she wiped away the last tear. Her sister was a traitor and who mourned a traitor? Villetta had done her duty by leaving a tip. They must have found something incriminating to arrest her. She had done nothing wrong. 

Then why did it hurt?

"Villetta Nu?" the man asked. 

"Yes sir," she replied. The golden stitching and cuffs drew her eye and she met his eye. "My apologies, my lord."

Lord Gottwald offered a quick smile and he turned around. "The Purists appreciate your loyalty to Britannia. The Elevens are a tremendous threat to Britannia who prey on kind hearts. They do not yet understand their place within the Empire."

The Numbers killed Adrian and Michael and now they tricked her sister and led her to treason. Her sister wasn't guilty but a victim of their duplicity. Villetta wasn't guilty. She had done the right thing.

"Thank you, my lord. I will be on guard."

"I understand that your family must be important to you and your sister is all that is left. You did well to honor the ones who died and in time, your sister will understand."

"My lord?"

He turned around. "Her crime is minor and rehabilitation is offered to those with prestigious positions. It would be remiss of the Empire to lose a potential talent."

Villetta blinked. Her sister would be okay? She would get to live. Then... she truly had made the right decision. Eveline would understand when she finally returned home. They would be a proper family again.

But... "I have but a simple position in the military, my lord."

A smile played at the edge of his mouth. "Your knightmare scores are decent and with a sponsor, I'm sure you will continue to prove yourself an asset to Britannia. Additionally, your background offers a skillet that the Purists are currently... lacking."

"You're offering me a job?" she clarified, unable to believe it. She was a simple commoner and the Purists were composed of only nobles.

"Knighthood if you accept. If you prove yourself in battle and impress the Viceroy, perhaps you'll even earn yourself a proper noble title to honor your family."

What did he want in return? Villetta was a nobody. There was no reason for the Margrave to extend such a generous offer to a commoner. The Purists detested commoners, even Empress Marianne for her heritage. If she accepted there would be endless harassment. A commoner with a courtesy noble rank was still a commoner. But to see her sister again? She would do anything.

"I accept, my lord." Hopefully, Lord Gottwald would be the honorable sort. 

"What's your impression of Empress Marianne?"

Was this a test? Villetta hesitantly chose the truth. "She inspired me to join the military."

Lord Gottwald didn't reply for a moment and she shifted nervously. Finally, he said, "I served under Lady Marianne early on in my career. I lead the Purists to honor my father and protect the Empire from the continuous encroachment of Numbers seeking to abolish our ways. They are a threat to Britannia's might. You understand my beliefs."

He wasn't a Purists fanatic like she had initially thought. Instead, like her, he recognized the threat of the numbers.

Bowing, she said, "It would be my honor to protect the Empire against the Number threat." Hesitantly, she added, "I won't speak of your beliefs to others."

"Thank you, Miss Nu. I look forward to your assistance," he said and left.

Overcoming her shock, she approached her sister's stand. Small trinkets were scattered across the floor and she leaned down to pick them up. A shattered photo of her brother lay in the corner and ignored the shards of glass as she pulled out the photo. A droplet of blood stained the corner and Villetta sank to the ground. 

Her sister was all that was left of her family.

* * *

_ Chrysanthemum _

_ The Sight of Smells by Red Dawn _

_ March 19, 2020 _

_ Green and blue, purple and orange, white and black. They describe the world with vivid details. The trees are brown; the sky is blue. Flowers blossom in every shade and dresses represent the rainbow at glorious balls.  _

_ Green is sweet with a tang of bitterness and sometimes delicate. It comes in various forms from hot to cold, and soft to hard. Blue is the color of fresh wind and in the summer of hot humid air filled with sweat. In the winter it's frigid and burning with burnt wood and charcoal. Purple is clean and marks the clothes fresh out of the wash. It's soft and smells of mild climates. Purple follows nobles through the streets painting their way. Orange is sour, sweet, and tells of springtime, but often it colors the time long past with wisdom beyond our years. White is harsh and clean without any remorse. It strips away identity.  _

_ Black is constant and all I remember. It smells of dirt and pain and happiness. It is the only color I remember and my dearest friend.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.
> 
> Apologies for last week. Things were... strange. There is one more kaleidoscope chapter before the story returns the focus on Lelouch and Nunnally. Speaking of Nunnally, I found a neat short fic exploring her role in canon. It's called a Writer of Worlds by Tatrin and is available on both A03 and FFN. 
> 
> A quick question: Since a lot has happened, should I add a short recap of previous chapters in the chapter summary?
> 
> Lastly, I know some people have been struggling with all the various characters name. So...
> 
> The Count Arc: A Reminder of Who is Who
> 
> Important:   
Lelouch vi Brittania (goes by the last name Lamperouge and occasionally is called Toothpick, Gosling, or Lulu) and Brigit Buteau (Viscount of the Iceplains and known as Lady Melbourne. She's a former professional violinist, but abandoned her career to become the Count)
> 
> Somewhat Important:  
The squad: Roy Fadiman (heir to the Fadiman Shampoo company. Nicknamed: Shampoo), Alex Doe (an orphan who joined the army and is around Lelouch's age. Has a habit of pickpocketing and nicknamed: Pipsqueak), Edgar Gray (aspires to be a doctor and grew up in rural areas), Frederick Elric (joined the army with Edgar and used to hunt), and Henry Sullivan (stopped growing after entering the army and likes to follow Lelouch).
> 
> Nunnally vi Britannia (goes by the last name Lamperouge. Permanently blinded by an assassination attempt although she is faintly able to discern light from dark), Suzaku Kururugi (Lelouch and Nunnally's first friend and the son of the Prime Minister), Art (Brigit's minion. He grew up with Brigit and cares for her younger brother, Oliver)
> 
> Character to keep in mind:  
Kyoshiro Tohdoh (leader of the JLF. He is Suzaku's former sensei and taught Lelouch Japanese and shogi), Reuben Ashford (Margrave of Tokyo and holds various subsidiary titles. Invented the knightmare frame which Marianne tested), Warrant Officer York (an OSI agent known as Sergeant Malfoire), Frederick Oberstein (commonly referred to as Margrave Oberstein. He manufactures knightmare frames and is haunted by the death of his older brother), and Allie Welch (Nunnally's best friend and Gwen's younger sister. Loves oranges)  
Charles zi Britannia (The 98th Emperor), Marianne vi Britannia (favored wife, former Knight of Honor and now the Knight of Six. She is confined to a wheelchair), Cornelia li Britannia (former guard of Empress Marianne and protective of her younger sister Euphemia. She currently serves in the military), Schneizel el Britannia (Prime Minister and prodigious chess player), and Odysseus eu Britnania (Minister of Welfare and the crown prince. He is known for pushing forward social reforms and his work in the medical field. He has a close relationship with his younger brother Schneizel)
> 
> Minor Characters:  
Arthur Greenford (his family has held the rank Margrave for multiple generations. His nephew is currently dating Princess Guinevere. He is a childhood friend of Frederick Oberstein), Jeremiah Gottwald (former guard of Empress Marianne and leader of the Purists in Area Eleven after his father's death), Nagisa Chiba (Tohdoh's wife and the mother to Ko), Pablo Vega (from Area Six and helps smuggle supplies through camp), Naoto Kozaki (known as Nathan Walker to Britannians and Kallen's older brother), Kallen Stadtfeld (half Britannian and attends Ashford Academy), Milly Ashford (the student council's president), and Kaguya Sumeragi (Suzaku's cousin and now betrothed to an undecided Britannian prince)  
\---  
Phew. Is this useful? And something I should include for the future?
> 
> See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )


	28. Kaleidoscope Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Taschereau, Area 2**

Alex stood in front of Malfoire's personal tent with heavy pockets. His fingers pulsed in anticipation. It was just like approaching a mark. Alex needed to be calm and composed. There couldn't be a hint of nervousness that would cause his hands to fumble... or Malfoire to pounce.

Alex stepped inside.

"Ah, Alex. I wasn't expecting you. How are you? Is there something I can do for you?" Malfoire asked. 

The warmth in his tone soothed Alex and he wanted to relax. Malfoire was a good man. He cared for Alex and would help him. Without Malfoire, Alex would be nothing. He couldn't lose that pivotal relationship. He should forget the night in the trailer. It was a bad dream brought on by anxiety and stress. Tightening his fists behind his back, Alex remembered why he had to go through. 

Lelouch had taught him to read for a favor. It was time to repay that. His friend had done so much for him and Alex owed him. Besides, this solution would mean Alex would never be at someone else's mercy again.

"I'm doing well," Alex replied. His voice didn't quiver and as he walked towards the desk; his steps were steady. "I wanted to ask some questions. You mentioned I could earn a promotion."

Malfoire smiled and set aside the document he was working on. "Of course. You know I always have time for you, Alex."

"Thank you sir. It means a lot to me." Alex stopped behind the chair and watched him. It had meant so much, but it was all a lie. The remaining unease vanished. "You know sir... sometimes I imagine you as my father."

"Losing a parent is difficult, but I'm honored by your trust. Tell me, what was Lieutenant Colonel Fortescue drinking this morning? I could have sworn he poured something into his cup of tea."

The instance in question had occurred in the morning. Alex squashed the flare of pride at knowing the answer. "Chocolate. Although he told the other officers that it was an old brandy."

"Amazing Alex. You have such a keen mind. keeping track of all these details."

If Alex had been as keen as Malfoire claimed, he would never have fallen for the man's tricks. "Thank you sir."

"Sit, Alex. Sit. Let us consider your future." Malfoire waved causally and ducked his head as he began to rummage through the drawer of files.

When passing Lieutenant Colonel Fortescue in the morning and observing his questionable tastes in coffee, Alex had swiped a small silver pistol. He drew it and aimed at the man silently. "I'd prefer to stand."

Malfoire paused in his rummaging and looked up at the barrel. The kind demeanor slid away. "Alex?"

"We're going to have an honest conversation. If you lie, I shoot."

"You're surrounded by soldiers on all sides. If you fire the gun, you'll die by my side."

"And you won't be able to hurt Lelouch anymore."

"Ah," Malfoire whispered and leaned back. "Lelouch is perfectly capable of ending our arrangement anytime."

"The price you ask is too high."

"Well then, Alex. Do you plan on killing me then? You want to save the friend who lies to you. Are you not the least bit curious?"

Yes. Alex yearned to know the truth and satisfy his curiosity, but the streets had taught him to set curiosity aside to survive. He had to believe that Lelouch did not tell him for a reason. "You're OSI. Malfoire isn't even your name."

"Warrant Officer York at your service," Malfoire drawled. The mocking smile dared Alex to shoot.

Everything had been a lie. Malfoire... no, York, had lied. He pretended to be the father figure Alex yearned for. York hadn't even tried to explain his actions and ease the pain his confession caused. 

Alex steadied his hand. "You used me to get to Lelouch. Lelouch wants nothing to do with you."

"As I said, your friend can end it anytime. If he doesn't want my tutelage, a simple letter will make all his problems disappear. He doesn't: too busy with his childish defiance. Part of him wants to play this game of ours... and Alex, you really shouldn't interfere. You're just one piece on the chessboard: an enticing pawn."

"No chess metaphors," Alex hissed. He had never bothered learning the game which York very well knew. "I refuse to be your bait any longer. If Lelouch really wants to play then it shouldn't matter if I'm there."

York frowned. "No. Alex, I taught you better. You can't just hold me at gunpoint and expect me to honor any promises. Once the game is set, you cannot leave."

If bait was only bait because it was weaker, then York would have been correct, but Alex played a different game. On the streets, knowing how to play bait meant the difference between a meal or starving in the cold. The strength to do what needed to be done was the only currency.

Alex smiled. "The gun is here so you know I'm serious. Sure, you and I know that Lelouch will do whatever is necessary... but you forget, Lelouchis defends  _ his _ ideals, not yours.. You and him are opposed in philosophies. You look down on the very men that Lelouch has sworn to protect."

"Ideals can be shattered. I'm sure the war will do that in time. I'm waiting for what will be reborn."

Alex grit his teeth. His friend would not be shattered. He was meant to stand tall and unchained. Unclenching his jaw, he said, "Then wait. You will not be the one to do it. That's my condition."

"For what?" 

"To be your student in all matters," Alex declared and ignored the feeling of dread. It was necessary. And Alex always did what was necessary to survive. Now, he did it to protect the one person, who despite their lies, cared for him.

York slowly asked, "You. You want to be part of the OSI?"

"Yes."

York leaned across the desk and ignored the gun trained on his head. "And you're sacrificing yourself to the fate Lelouch wants to protect you from. You would do that for a liar and coward?"

"Yes." Alex took a deep breath. "If you leave Lelouch alone, I will submit to your authority."

"I admit, I did not see this coming," York said. "But while pointing a gun at me does make this an interesting job application, it does not prove you're worthy."

But Lelouch, who did not want the position, was somehow worthy.

"Still," York continued, "this intrigues me. So why don't we commence the interview. Sit."

The word was an order and Alex kept his eyes trained on him as he pulled back the chair. The gun continued to steadily point at the chest.

"And the gun?" York asked.

"You haven't accepted."

York snorted. "Indeed I have not. What do you know of Lelouch?"

Snippets of overheard conversations and theories flew through his mind. None of them perfectly fit the situation. Like Roy believed, Lelouch had noble blood. His mother, who is in a wheelchair, felt comfortable in a crowd of commoners, yet her body posture screamed authority. She had claimed to be a Warrant Officer, but perhaps she was a commoner elevated to knighthood. Yet despite his noble blood, Lelouch knew violence and detested the Number system. It was an odd dichotomy that made Alex think that Lelouch might have run away from home and hidden himself amongst the Numbers. But the constant letters from his parents, despite being ill received, suggested that was not the case.

Then there was one final new clue from York himself. Lelouch had the power to end his predicament himself. "His parents have power over you."

York smiled. "That is perhaps the only true thing you could have said without me being required to arrange an accident for you."

"I won't dig," Alex promised. Another clue. Lelouch's identity was somehow a secret relevant to the OSI. A minor noble wouldn't have garnered that response. Even most major nobles. 

"Of course you will. It's in your nature."

"I won't talk about my suspicions," Alex amended.

"Good. Protecting Lelouch will be your most important task, overriding any orders given. If he dies, your life is forfeit. Do you understand?"

Alex nodded and at the judging gaze, said, "Understood, sir."

"Now lower the gun," York ordered and Alex complied. "Per our agreement, I will no longer use you as leverage over Lelouch."

Narrowing his eyes, Alex said, "And all attempts to intimidate him."

"You don't have that kind of leverage. Besides," he said, rolling his eyes, "even without you, he'll be obstinate enough. I keep him on his toes and curb his self-sacrificing tendency. I have no idea how he can be  _ his  _ son with such a ridiculous lack of self-preservation."

Alex chose not to ask as York leaned down and a lock clicked. He pulled out a form and passed it across the desk along with a pen. Reading through the form, Alex marveled at the flood of legalese. And then he re-read it as York's fingers tapped along the table. Endless privacy clauses and regulations echoed through his brain. 

Hesitantly, Alex picked up the pen. This was it. His soul in exchange for his safety against a madwoman and Lelouch's mental wellbeing.

"Just sign. Paperwork is the bane of the OSI."

The pen rested on the page and Alex dared to ask, "Will the contract be valid? Even with... the new rules?"

York's eyebrows raised. "Yes. Prince Odysseus can muck around with the army as much as he wants. The OSI employs many minors under the purview of the Emperor and that will not change. The paperwork is necessary for logistical reasons, but the words hold no meaning." York paused to stare at Alex. "Once you join the OSI, you belong to us. You cannot leave unless royalty demands it."

That was what Alex wanted to hear. With his service, the woman would never be able to touch him. As long as he didn't draw the attention of Prince Odysseus and his moral outrage, Alex would be fine. Still, as he signed, he felt as if York had insinuated something else.

Alex passed the paper back. "I'll be telling Lelouch."

"Of course." York paused at the sound of feet crunching across the snow. "If you think he'll forgive you."

The footsteps neared and Alex turned to see Lelouch step inside looking frazzled. Lelouch looked between the two and his shoulders straightened and an easy going smile slid onto his face. "Oh Alex. I wasn't expecting you. How are you? Edgar wants me to tell you that we're getting the old squad together for dinner tomorrow."

Dinner would be nice, but was not the issue on hand, so Alex cleared his throat and said, "Lelouch. I'm joining the OSI."

Lelouch's eyes widened and he stormed over to York. "The deadline wasn't up yet. He's not joining the OSI."

"Lelouch,"—Alex grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him back—"York didn't force me. I found out on my own and made the decision."

"But why?" Lelouch asked as he stared down at Alex. "You don't know what he'll make you do. You don't have to do this."

"I have a pretty good idea." Alex had seen them in the trailer and heard enough stories. "I chose this. The contract is signed. It's too late to change my mind."

Lelouch slammed his hands down on the table and glowered at York. "End this now. Alex isn't your pawn."

"Not a pawn anymore. I dare say he may be a knight now, but only time will tell. Unless, of course, you're ordering me?" York stared meaningfully at Lelouch who remained silent. "No? You should be thanking Alex. He was so concerned about you, he offered himself in your place."

Shaking his head, Lelouch stepped back. "Alex..."

York rose and walked forward. "Treat this as a lesson. Hesitation will cost you." Resting a hand on Alex's shoulder, he continued, "I no longer require your presence in the trailer. Alex will do fine as an assistant. Your own contract is still in effect."

Bile rose; Alex swallowed. He had no room to complain. Everything had gone as intended. "It's okay, Lelouch."

Silence hung in the air between them as York leaned against his desk with a smile.

Lelouch clenched his fists, but calmly said, "You're coming to dinner." He turned to York. "And if you hurt him, everyone in the camp will know you are an OSI agent." Mockingly, he continued, "What do you think the Numbers will do when they find out?

"That was your plan," York murmured and clapped his hands together. "Impressive how you continue to slip out of my grasp by creating new tools instead of using the one at your disposal."

"I'm not my parents and I refuse to rely on them," Lelouch said before leaving. The tent flaps drifted in the wind.

After the footsteps faded away, York chuckled and sat down. "Alex, you'll meet me here tonight at twenty-one hundred sharp. Do not speak of our arrangement. To the public, you're now my apprentice. You're dismissed."

"Acknowledged, Sergeant," Alex said and walked out of the tent under the dying sun. The pistol weighed heavily in his pocket, but Alex didn't intend to return it. It was a token of his victory.

* * *

_ Chrysanthemum _

_ Whispers by Red Dawn _

_ April 8, 2013 _

_ You can hear their whispers of their thoughts. Constant and every present, they follow you. _

_ "Let me carry that for you," because you are too weak. Your hands still work and so do your arms, but let them help you because you have no worth. You are weak and must rely on others for what you can do. _

_ Their eyes pour over the books and check the numbers. "Everything appears correct," and they sound surprised. Your brain works fine, but they cannot see beyond what is in front of them. _

_ "What about an easier project?" _

_ "Don't go out alone." _

_ "Are you sure this won't be an issue?" _

_ Nobody wants to let you try because you're defined by inability. _

* * *

**Altschloss, Pendragon, Homeland**

Spring had come, so Odysseus once again visited his East coast office. The old palace walls greeted him like they had in his youth. A filled crack ran through a marble column from where he had enthusiastically swung his sword indoors. Despite the strife, times somehow felt simpler then. Everything had a purpose, but now, Odysseus drifted through the currents of time without purpose. He could marry of course as his father often reminded him, but should Odysseus have a child, it would endanger Schneizel's claim to the throne.

No. Marriage was a foolhardy endeavor. He didn't need to dally with noble ladies and foreigners and allow them to sink their claws into him. Love was for commoners.

Kevin, his assistant, bowed as Odysseus entered the Office of Welfare. The fire crackled welcomingly and the door shut behind him. An impressive bucket of letters waited in the corner and Odysseus watched as a letter leapt free and glided to the ground. Spring was here, but work did not change.

"Any word from my father?" he asked as he sat down and pulled out his favorite fountain pen.

Kevin cleared his throat and pulled out his notebook. "His Majesty requests that you invite E.U. delegates, along with the Empress of the Chinese Federation, to your birthday this coming August."

Once, a birthday party had been a party. If his father wanted to pander to foreigners with his party, Odysseus had no choice but to agree. "Who is the new Empress? Last I heard, the eunuchs were covering for Emperor Shang's incompetence as he splurged on food, drugs, and girls. The coffers must have run dry ages ago."

His assistant chuckled nervously. "He had a daughter, Tianzi. She's eight."

"And ruling a country?" Odysseus shook his head. "With their monetary concerns and the unrest from a regime change, I expect they'll not bother father much longer."

Keven checked his note again. "No. The eunuchs received a sizable donation for the tragedy of their Emperor's death."

"Tell father that if I must host his political schemes, I want all my siblings there. Especially Lelouch and Nunnally."

"Of course. I will relay the message." Flipping through the notes, Kevin continued, "Lord Ashford invites you to tour his academy next month and wishes to discuss advancing education and medicine within Britannia. He also sent an update on the new medical students which looks promising."

"Schedule the meeting." With Reuben currying favor from his father, Odysseus could work with him openly and seek his advice on implementing more ambitious policies. The surveys had come in from the winter and the number of orphans living in squalor was unacceptable. He would never amount to much, but at least this way, he could leave his own mark on history. And unlike his family, it wouldn't be bloody. There was enough violence in the world already without needlessly adding more.

"Lord Oberstein sent an official complaint that our men were disrupting his business operations."

"Ignore. If they were interrupting, there was just cause." Odysseus paused. "Actually, schedule a surprise visit. I wish to see these businesses myself."

"Of course, Your Highness. I've summarized the other requests in the packet on your right. Is there anything particular you are concerned for?"

Odysseus skimmed through the dense packet and the various noble names. In the back, he finally came to the list that he yearned to see: a survey of complaints from the commoners divided by region. "Why are we having data collection problems for Area Two?"

"The Count and his Crows. The people there are anxious and many refuse to talk with Britannian officials. Additionally, the roads are a prime target for attack, but with the snow melting and the Count’s dwindling attacks, we should have data in the coming months."

There shouldn't have been an issue in the first place. If his men were facing such difficulties, then the situation was far worse than the media or even official reports portrayed. "Keep me informed regarding Area Two. Start sending relief aid."

"Relief aid? We don't have any reports of shortages, Your Highness."

"If people are silent, then there is a reason. Worst case I squander some of our generous budget. However, if we do nothing, then inaction will fuel discontent."

"I apologize, Your Highness, for questioning you."

"No matter." Odysseus waved them off. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes. Prince Schneizel requests you contact him at your earliest convenience."

"Dismissed." 

The door closed and Odysseus activated the screen and selected his brother's contact. Schneizel loved checking in and Odysseus indulged him. Keeping his brother satisfied was much easier than dealing with the fallout and Odysseus was Schneizel's dedicated keeper. As long as it kept the money flowing generously to the Office of Welfare, Odysseus wouldn't complain. 

"Brother, I see you're settling in well," said Schneizel dressed in a white nightshirt as he sat down on a pear white sofa. A fresh cup of coffee steamed in his hands. "Is work going well?"

Odysseus laughed. "Same old. Nobody cares for my office and I have an entire list of folks to badger."

"Send them my way," Schneizel offered with a sharp smile.

"You're busy with your own idiots; let me handle my own."

Schneizel blew on the coffee. "You're too soft brother. They take advantage of you. A whip keeps the hounds at bay."

"Careful brother. Talking like that, people might not believe that sanguine smile you wear before the press," Odysseus teased. "My irritants are hardly worth the trouble and I just need to mention Father's name and they'll concede. All they can do is delay me."

"My mask of politeness is effective unlike your honest niceness because I have the power to eliminate those who dare to impede me. The nuisances of worth learn. Greenford is quite wary of me after my show at the ball." He frowned. "I thought for sure he wouldn't resist taking the opportunity to eliminate me. Either he is more of a coward than I thought or slier than he presents himself."

"You did what?" Odysseus barked. Of all foolhardy actions. 

"Father agreed with my course of action."

Odysseus massaged his nose. "Father lacks a proper frame of reference for what constitutes as  _ dangerous. _ "

"I had Kanon standing by at all times. I was in no danger."

He didn't have the energy to deal with this. "Schneizel. We've talked about unnecessary risks. Putting yourself in mortal danger—"

"I trust Kanon with my life."

"I don't trust Murphy with your life," Odysseus snapped back. "There will always be variables you cannot account for so do not put yourself in mortal danger. We've discussed this. Countless times."

Schneizel tapped his chin. "So I shouldn't invite the Count for a game of chess?"

Odysseus clenched his fists. Only Schneizel would attempt to joke about this. "Go ahead. It's your life. Present Father with his head and perhaps he'll give you the stupid crown. Then I don't need to spend my birthday as a glorious showpony for our neighbors."

Wincing, Schneizel set aside his coffee. "I did try to talk Father out of it. I know you prefer enjoying your birthday by yourself."

"Thank you for trying." Odysseus sighed. "On the bright side, Lelouch and Nunnally will be there."

"Oh?" Schneizel leaned forward. "Father has been incredibly tight lipped. He even refuses to send my letters to Lelouch. How ever did you manage getting him to concede to that?"

"He will if he wants me to host this ridiculous party of his. I haven't asked for anything in years—"

"Really brother? You badger him all the time. Father, why are you neglecting your seventeenth wife? Father, you should socialize with your children. Father, let me tear the military apart to save the poor children who honorably serve Britannia?"

"Hilarious," Odysseus said. "Those were for the Empire and you can complain about me upsetting the natural order of things by saving the poor lambs from their fate, but Father wants support from the commoners. My office is currently the most popular. Yours... not so much."

"That would be a lot more impressive if you had planned that instead of following the whims of your bleeding heart. Face it. You hate conflict. Anyone cries and Big Brother Odysseus arrives to save the day."

"I hate you. If you're done mocking me, shall I continue?" Odysseus asked and his brother fell silent. "Father will ensure Nunnally and Lelouch attend in return for sacrificing my birthday."

"You're sure? There isn't anything to gain. Father could order you and you would have to host the party regardless."

"Compromise does wonders and as much as it pains me, I know I am Father's favorite."

Schneizel leaned back and nodded. "That you are. He always did spoil you, but then you never took advantage of him unlike a rational person. I imagine Guinever ruined it for everyone else."

Remembering his sister in her younger years before she developed any subtlety, Odysseus winced. "That probably didn't help. But she's the gossip queen now and stringing along that nephew of Lord Greenford to influence the Purist Faction is pure genius. Father's investments in her pays well."

"And we pay her out of our nose for the same information."

"Really? I find she loves to share."

Schneizel glowered. "Unlike you, I don't have time to listen to her babble for three hours in hopes that she will provide me the information I need."

"She always comes through in the end... but it can be meandering at times, I admit. I suspect she talks your ear off because she doesn't like you." And for good reason. Those who had witnessed Schneizel’s tantrums in his youth were not so easily fooled by his mask.

"Thank you for stating the obvious." Schneizel looked off screen. "It's late and I still have another twenty contracts to sift through and forward to Father. I'm attending your party. There will be no last minute excuses so don't take me off the guest list like you normally do."

Odysseus tried his best to look innocent. Judging from his brother's expression, he failed utterly. "You miss those events on purpose. I simply prevent any feathers from being ruffled."

"I want their feathers ruffled. And your meddling started that annoying rumor of us fighting last year when I actually did attend and people realized you removed my name."

"A rumor you used to your advantage," Odysseus reminded. "Night Schneizel. And no more using yourself as bait."

Schneizel rolled his eyes and Odysseus resisted the urge to sigh. The screen flicked off.

* * *

_ Classification: Secret _

_ Agent: Warrant Officer Will York, ID: IFO20993 _

_ Stationed: 712 Division at La Sarre, Area 2 _

_ Report: Yellow Risk Assessment of 712th Division, April 30, 2013 _

_ Britannia has a long standing practice of using non-native troops to subjugate instances of civil unrest. The 712th Division, primarily composed of Honorary Britannians, is less susceptible to the Count's ideological agenda which can be seen in the lack of defections. Due to harsh penalties, desertions also occur at a much lower rate compared to other divisions. The local's hostilities mean it is unlikely troops will collaborate or leak information. _

_ Unfortunately, the commanding officers neuter the effectiveness of the division. Multiple officers have gotten drunk, engaged in promiscuous activities, and accepted bribes which resulted in leaked classified information. None of these officers have been disciplined for their misconduct. (See attached for a list of suspected officers) Officers also waste troops on non-military objectives such as guarding the transport of silk sheets and fine wine. These transports are prime targets for rebellious groups and supply the enemy with needed cash while draining His Majesty's coffers. The misappropriation of funds means the division has been forced to take quarter with a local village which escalates hostilities between the army and the locals. _

_ Currently, a few soldiers are maintaining morale and preventing a red risk assessment. If they were to die in combat, the situation would warrant a code red. Britannia risks a repeat of the Trafford incident and I recommend immediate action to discipline officers and, at minimum, ensure that soldiers have adequate food, proper gear, and sufficient medical supplies. _

* * *

**La Sarre, Area 2**

With the coming of spring, Art's terrorism activities slowed to a crawl and noble events strained his time. It was the second Friday, so Art stood by the crumbling water fountain and listened to the spring birds plead. Brigit hadn't been pleased with him delaying his tasks to visit her brother. She insisted the tasks on hands were essential to destroy the Emperor and his cancerous regime; only after, would her brother have peace.

Art did not agree. Within the very town her brother lived, the Number army had made camp. Their Britannian brethren built a proper camp with wooden walls a few miles South. Still tasked with finding the mysterious commander—Brigit remained unaware of Art's suspicions that the voice was no officer—Art integrated himself with the troops. The scorn and hate from the villagers was eerily reminiscent of the same hate Oliver received; Britannia's culture was immutable. People needed someone to despise and a victory on the battlefield would lead to no change.

Maybe Art was growing tired of the fighting. He never used to think like that. The call for justice and equality had blinded him to all other realities. And now, Art was left wondering if all the sacrifices would be worth it. So many dead because of Art's actions and the number would continue to rise. 

With the noble court kicking into full gear, Brigit's time as the Count was limited. Art had to train their troops to vanquish the Britannian forces in the upcoming winter. If they didn't find a weakness and strike a debilitating blow, the Empire's dogs would descend and leave a bloody trail in their path. A cleansing. Anyone suspected of associating with the Crows slaughtered and with them, the rebellion.

Art broke his silent rule as he entered the house and walked up the stairs to Oliver's room. The thoughts swirled in his head despite all attempts to banish them. Silently, he stood before the door and fingered the sedative that he always kept on hand since the last attack. This was why he fought. Brittana did not allow him to buy the drug that had saved his friend’s life.

He opened the door to the dim room and an excited pitbull leaped on him in greeting.

In the corner of the room, obscured by books, Oliver—wearing his thick sunglasses—swayed as he stood. "Art! I thought maybe... you wouldn't come. You were late."

Art swept his friend into a hug. "Of course not. I promised you then, I'd never abandon you. I'm keeping it. You're not getting away with me that easy."

"I remember now," Oliver whispered. "It's just. Well, everyone else leaves. And after the accident... Brigit doesn't talk to me. She doesn't want to see me."

Brigit fought out of guilt: a suitor denied who had looked at a strong child ravaged by an illness and sought to destroy them in revenge. 

"It's not you," Art whispered. 

"The kids next door call me a blind demon or vampire. The priest nocks every other week trying to exorcise me. I'm Brigit's burden. I ruined her career. How can everyone but you be wrong?"

"Because they don't understand," Art said. 

They saw only the child convulsing on the ground and ran in fear. It was Art—nine years old and dirt poor—who stopped, returned, and sat by the new boy's side. When others cursed and flung stones at Oliver, it was Art who stood before him as his shield. His actions condemned him to a childhood of solitude, but Art never begrudged his friend for it. He had lived on the bottom rung of the social ladder with kindness being his only currency and was a better man for it.

Oliver rolled his eyes and walked back to his desk. "I've been trying to draw. I can't live here for the rest of my life."

"I thought you wanted to play the piano?"

His shoulders sagged and he passed the picture. "Nobody will want me on stage. Even before, collapsing would ruin the show. I was just kidding myself."

Art looked at the harsh sketch of a crow resting on a corpse. "With Brigit's new position, we can access new treatments... And, the E.U. is more accepting in general. You shouldn't give up. I will help make your dream come true."

"I have red puckering burns covering my eyes and scars running along my body, Art.” Oliver peered through the crack in the shutters. “Even in the E.U., I'll find no acceptance. It's best I find something I can do from the safety of my home."

"So drawing? I have a few acquaintances who might be interested."

Oliver spun around and slammed the shutters firmly shut. "No. I'm doing it on my own. You should focus on your own career. I know you don't want to follow my sister forever. What do you want?"

"I... never thought about it." 

First, he had worked to help his mother when her muscles gave out and she had no energy to move. He had picked up jobs to ensure food was always on the table and told her stories. Then she died, like his grandparents, and their parents before them. He knew that the same disease lurked in his veins. Sometimes, like for his aunt, it took years to rear and other times, like for his cousin, it attacked the skin instead. But, it lay there in wait and Art knew the time would come.

"Well, think about it. You can't be happy following other people. Find a hobby. And don't tell me visiting me is your hobby. Find a real one."

"As His Imperial Majesty commands," Art teased and filed it on his long to do list. Hobbies were said to be great stress relief. 

"I'm serious." Oliver poked him. "Step out of your comfort zone. Find a hero."

"A hero?" Art asked. Brigit was one to the people.

"Someone who inspires you. Gives you the confidence to step forward."

Art sat down on the bed and nudged the eager dog to the side. "And who is yours?"

"Empress Marianne." Oliver blushed and passed a sketch of her.

Light lines captured her likeness, while dark thick lines displayed the wheelchair like a throne. A sword with blood rested across her lap and it's ghostly form pressed against Art’s neck. Why did Oliver have to choose her?

"The Emperor trusts her despite her imperfection. And when she came to Area Two, the Count fled and the neighbors didn't dare to call me a demon. She is what Britannia could be."

"That's one way to look at it," Art said, feeling ill. Her accomplishments were impressive even if she carved a bloody path through her foes. To her, mercy was a foreign concept. She was one of the pillars Britannia rested upon and perpetuated the lie that a commoner could rise beyond their station. She was a hypocrite.

"She even replied to my letter, you know. Well, I guess it was an assistant. She is rather busy, but it has her signature on it and everything." Oliver opened the lowest drawer and fiddled with the secret hatch Art had helped him install. Turning around, he held the letter victoriously and on it, true to his word, gleamed her signature in a dark walnut ink speckled with gold.

"I'm glad for you." Although Brigit would froth at the mouth if she heard. She wanted Empress Marianne's head on a spike and Art worked hard to ensure they would never be in the same region, even by accident. "What do you think of the Count?"

Oliver stared at him. "You never brought up politics before."

"Sorry. Work has been stressful. I shouldn't have—"

"—No. It's nice. Sometimes I feel like all there is to my life is this room and you always focus on me and sometimes I feel like I don't know you."

"That wasn't my intention. I just didn't want to burden you with my problems."

"Well..." Oliver sat on the chair backwards and trailed his fingers along the edge. "I think, I don't like him. He says pretty words, but with him here, food started running low. Of course Brigit made sure we had enough, but I told Ava to donate some of it. Maybe the Count intends to follow through on his promises, but for now, things are worse than ever. At least with the Emperor, his actions have a positive impact. He honestly cares for us normal folks."

"The Emperor's hands are bathed in blood like every noble," Art hissed. "It's his Empire that prevents you from accessing treatment and allowed your assaulter to walk free."

Oliver frowned. "Brigit killed him, didn't she?"

Art's mouth dried. He had tracked the arrogant noble, accosted him in the street, and delivered him into Brigit's hands. She had watched the man impassively as she played with her knife. When he began to blubber and plead, Brigit drew the knife and carved into his flesh for every injury he had inflicted on her brother. 

Art had left halfway through and only returned to dispose of the body. The man’s death hadn't quelled the cold fury in her eyes and the seeds of rebellion blossomed. The culture of Britannia had allowed the noble to walk free; Britannia would change.

"Keep my sister's secrets," Oliver said, waving his hand. "I never thought you would support the Count."

Chuckling nervously, Art faced the shuttered window. For all that Art trusted Oliver, the conversation was becoming dangerous. Art said, "Britannia won't change without reason. The Emperor's recent benevolence reflects the changing times."

"Just don't do anything too rash. You're my best friend and I don't want to lose you, but if following the Count makes you happy, then I won't complain."

"Thank you," Art paused and then added with a smirk, "Olie."

Throwing up his hands, Oliver cried, "It's not fair. Your name is one syllable already... I'm changing my name to Merlin."

"Excuse me?"

"And you'll be Arthur, named after my most dear apprentice."

"Warily, Art asked, "Who?"

Pointing at the dog, Oliver said, "Arthur, my loyal dog. Unless, of course, you dispense with the name Ollie."

Between being named after a slobbering beast and a nickname, Art chose the logical option. "I'd be honored, Merlin."

* * *

_ Chrysanthemum _

_ Savior by Wizard _

_ May 15, 2013 _

_ Rolling through the world on a gilded throne, the Savior's eyes burn with potassium fire. A roaring sword sings through the nighttime sky.  _

_ "Listen," it cries.  _

_ And the forgotten masses, bloodied by fists and words, take to the sky. They're a sorry lot but burning with desire. Wheels and canes make their arsenal. The rare chained friend steps aside and lets the forgotten rise. Cursed words have shaped their minds.  _

_ Weak, they may seem, but strong they are inside. _

_ The savior speaks but does not see the masses. Yet, the forgotten hear her actions and look to the sky. She will come and set us free. The sidewalks will lower so wheels may roll. Bumps will guide those without eyes. The words of hate will cease. _

_ No longer forgotten or known as demons haunting the night, they will be reborn as people.  _

_ People who laugh and cry and sing and dance. Different people perhaps, but diversity is a strength.  _

_ The forgotten wait. _

* * *

**La Sarre, Area Two**

Setting up camp within a town had the major advantage of plumbing and warmth; two things which Edgar relished. The only downside? The stairs. Unhappy with the Numbers seeking quarter in their homes, the locals banished the 712th to freezing attics. An attic was better than a tent, but it made for an incredibly inconvenient medical ward. 

Stepping inside the room, Edgar stopped; a singed Frederick waved sheepishly. 

"It's nothing," Frederick reassured. "Just some upset locals. Roy got the fire under control, but he insisted I come up here, just in case."

Edgar gaped. "You are—you—This is the third time this week, you idiot!"

"Bad luck?"

"Take off your shirt," Edgar ordered... again. His heart was not beating faster. He was a professional; doctors weren't attracted to their patients even if they had candlelit dinners.

Frederick complied and held still as Edgar's hands searched for any other injuries to treat. Sweat coursed over mild burns and muscles rippled. Edgar’s professional diligence was rewarded with a small sliver of glass entrenched in the back and he turned around to grab his tweezers.

Ducking his head, Frederick said, "I swear I'm not doing this on purpose—"

"—I'd hope not. You're not a masochist—"

"—even if it's nice to spend time with you." Frederick yelped as Edgar seized the shard of glass.

Edgar drew back. "We spend a lot of time together." It never felt like enough.

"I know, but anything could happen... and I'm—" Frederick buried his head and groaned. "—I'm messing this up. But I was thinking..."

Edgar's heart wasn't beating faster in anticipation because maybe his dear friend felt the same.

"Well, I did a lot of thinking. And we could die you know?" Frederick looked up and frowned. "I need to get to the point, don't I?"

"Yes." 

Frederick rushed, "I could die tomorrow and I don't want to have regrets.... So. I'm going to say it."

Waiting, Edgar tried to not look too eager in case it was something else... but also not disinterested. Edgar wasn't sure if there was an appropriate expression for the occasion.

"I... like you." Frederick looked up with pleading eyes. "If that's okay?"

It wasn't the proper occasion for such a confession. It was improper. But Edgar replied enthusiastically, "I would love to be something more than friends."

Frederick exhaled through a shaky laugh. "Oh. That was terrifying. Thank you. I'm glad."

"I need to finish your examination first," Edgar protested as Frederick began to rise. "Professionally. Sergeant Tamay will have my head otherwise."

Frederick pouted. “Think I should grow a mustache?”

“With what hair?” Edgar shot back and hid his grin.

Two days later they entered the pub together holding hands. A few locals nodded at him respectfully, recognizing him for the medical aid he offered. They didn’t trust Sergeant Tamay, but Edgar did his duty. Everyone deserved treatment even if he personally detested them. Of course, being the only soldier within the division on somewhat cordial terms with the locals meant he was designated as the unofficial liaison to resolve disputes. 

A young teen stuck out his leg in front of Frederick and Edgar pulled him to the side, relishing the close contact. Gritting his teeth, he forced a smile and scanned the area for his old squad.

Roy, spotting them from his table, waved enthusiastically and whistled as they approached the old squad. "Pay up Pablo!"

Pablo, his face obscured by a large hate, dropped the coins on the table, 

Aghast, Edgar asked, "You were betting on us?"

Roy snorted. "You've been literally attached by each other's hips from day one. Drinks are one me!"

The owner scowled but brought over two pints of foaming beer from the tap. He snatched the money out of Pablo's hands and lumbered back to the bar and served the locals of the town. Ignoring the threatening looks, Edgar pulled Frederick to the table.

"Oh," Alex exclaimed with a smudge of whip cream on his nose, "that's why you needed the candles!"

Sweet oblivious Alex; Edgar chuckled.

Frederick pulled him into a one armed hug. "Was I being too subtle?"

"No," Roy said, "you were nauseatingly obvious, the two of you. Pablo thought it would take your oblivious asses another month to figure it out."

Pouting, Alex whined, "Please tell me I wasn't the only one to miss this?"

Lelouch raised his hand and Edgar hid a fond smile.

"Besides Lelouch?" 

No one replied and Alex dropped his head on the table causing the others to chuckle.

“Heard you’re Gosling now,” Edgar teased Lelouch as he looked over his young friend. The lack of supplies was taking a toll. Maybe Frederick could help him in convincing Lelouch to take better care of himself?

Lelouch rolled his eyes and muttered, “Jon needs to stop running his mouth.”

Actually, it was Pablo spreading the dreaded nickname, but Edgar wasn’t going to tell him. 

Ignoring the antics at the table, Edgar closed his eyes and leaned on Frederick's shoulders. They fell and rose like a soothing boat on a calm lake. His old squad and closest friends accepted him. Family. That was what they were. And Edgar would protect them at all costs.

Frederick leaned closer and his breath warmed Edgar's mouth. Eager, Edgar pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:  
And that is a wrap. Back to the main plot.
> 
> An Important Note: 
> 
> I think everyone is by now aware of the murder of George Floyd and the subsequent protests and numerous accounts of police brutality. I know many people read fanfics for escapism and everyone will have their own opinions. When the news of the coronavirus spread, I changed my plot mildly to remove an epidemic in the army that ravaged the troops, but I will not be doing that in response to current events. Firstly, it's infeasible. I write multiple chapters ahead and the plot trajectory is no longer as malleable. Even if that were not the case, I must acknowledge the type of story I set out to write.
> 
> Writing is the expression of ideas and therefore political. You can never fully remove the political component although in certain genres it can be minimized. I consider Excalibur to be a societal story. It is about the people who inhabit Britannia and their personal beliefs and struggle. This results in questions about the proper use of force, the role and responsibility of the government, and how to bring about change. With these issues gaining attention, I'm sorry if this story becomes challenging as a result.
> 
> I chose to write from multiple POVs to express the unique voices that arise from different backgrounds and personal beliefs. Without them, the story would fall flat. While I have my own political and moral beliefs, I attempt to paint a fair portrayal. (Yes, Brigit is irredeemable, but then there are people who cannot and will not change.) Whether or not I succeed is your own judgment. I invite people to draw their own conclusions.
> 
> I firmly believe that inaction is a choice. You choose to stay silent when you hear racism or sexism. You choose not to intervene when a person needs help. Your inaction does not make you innocent. Standing up can be hard. It risks alienating others and reprisal. But this does not change the fact that a man was murdered while three officers did nothing. Inaction protects the perpetrator and tells others: "this is okay." And this is why, I cannot say nothing and pretend this fic exists in a vacuum. 
> 
> The murder of George Floyd is a failure of policing. Showing up in riot gear and using tear gas and less-lethal rubber bullets to a peaceful protest displays a fundamental misunderstanding of who the police protect: the people. I fully support the First Amendment. If you're protesting, the ACLU has guides to help you understand your rights. Video evidence is now mightier than the pen and the sword. Record everything.
> 
> And lastly, there's still a pandemic, so remember to take basic precautionary measures like wearing a mask. 
> 
> Everyone, stay safe.  
...  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	29. Let Them Eat Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ 1) Santa only comes to good children. _

_ 2) Good children listen to their parents and follow their orders. _

_ 3) Good children do not cry or show weakness. That is for Frenchmen. _

_ 4) Good children bring honor to the family by going to war. _

_ 5) Family is of the utmost importance. The child is but a tool to further the family. _

_ 6) Family protects each other and sacrifices the weakest to remain strong. _

_ 7) Family bows down to the mighty Emperor even at the cost of their integrity. _

_ 8) The Emperor protects all citizens and mourns every loss in the war. _

_ 9) The Emperor prunes sick branches excessively to keep the Empire healthy. _

_ 10) The Emperor heads the family and all citizens of Britannia are his children. _

_ — _ _ Chrysanthemum: Lessons for Children by Red Dawn _

* * *

**Altschloss, Homeland**

Inside the stone castle, Lelouch paced relentlessly around his guest room. Large windows overlooked the vast gardens brimming with blooming flowers and flitting birds. In this illusion of tranquility, the war felt distant. 

Here, only the sound of peace greeted nobles’ ears. The birds chirped and water rustled. The servants ghosted over the stone floors as they rearranged furniture and met every need before it could be realized. 

No angry yells or rotten vegetables. No explosions followed by screams as another sakuradite mine was triggered. No hunger gnawing or skin blistering.

Odysseus’s birthday party was painfully peaceful and Lelouch detested that the Emperor had ordered him to attend. Every day away from his men meant another opportunity for a noble officer to throw away their lives. Despite the Count’s strange silence, independent locals continued to harass the army and steal their meager supplies.

At least he could see Nunnally again… and that made this royal posturing worth it.

The fine clothes pulled at the seams and Lelouch resisted the urge to adjust the fabric again; the tailor would be displeased. If Lelouch never saw the man again it would be too soon. His comrades remained on the battlefield with tattered garbs while Lelouch stood surrounded and dressed in excess. It was grating and infuriating. The money could better be spent elsewhere.

A young maid opened the door and Nunnally, dressed in her own extravagant gown, walked in. 

"Nunnally!" Proper decorum forgotten, Lelouch hugged her tightly and the fabric rustled around him. She smelled like oranges. "How are you?"

The maid stood by the side, radiating disapproval. "Your Highness, the clothes."

Nunnally pulled back and smoothed out of the fabric. "You're dismissed."

The door shut and, finally, they were alone together.

"You've grown," Lelouch said. "The dress looks wonderful on you. You'll be the envy of the party."

“And you lost weight.” Nunnally shifted. "Please tell me there is a chair somewhere? Nobody shows me around and these shoes are absolutely terrible. I just want to sit without risking falling on my face."

Wincing, Lelouch gently guided her to the luxurious couch in the center depicting a glorious hound hunt. "Father insisted we attend."

"I'm going to embarrass myself. I can barely move in this dress, let alone dance. Were they always this tight?" Nunnally leaned down and removed the pointed slippers with a sigh of relief. "And I can't even talk to Milly! It'd be too suspicious."

"I'm sorry... but at least we can catch up. How has school been? And Allie?" Was she enjoying the life bought by his complicity in the endless march of dead men?

"Milly makes everyone else do the paperwork." Nunnally sniffed. "She's just being lazy. But I started a blog and Allie helps me. It's not much, but sometimes, I can just complain about mother and father and no one will ever know." She paused and pulled out a painfully familiar handkerchief. "I love your birthday present. I hope you liked mine?"

"The short stories were nice. Is that what you're sharing?"

"Well... Not just that. Sometimes I write short stories, sometimes satire. I actually have a small side piece on disability. It's quite popular."

Flashes of the incapacitated soldiers danced through his mind and Lelouch set aside his guilt. People got hurt in war. He was already doing more than enough by using his father's allowance and the money earned from his letter smuggling to help pay for medical costs or aid their family.

It wasn't enough. "I'm glad people are listening."

She frowned. "It's mostly people like me. They love Mother, you know. They share stuff with me as well. Art, music, stories. They're just glad to not be alone."

"You should ask mother for an interview."

"Lelouch!" Nunnally leaned against him. "Why? I know you're still mad at her. Besides, I'm supposed to be a commoner. Why would an Empress be interviewed by a commoner?"

"Ask her. You don't have to interview her. Just suggest it to her. I'm sure Gwen would love to do a piece on her and then you could share it. It would make a lot of people happy... It's the least she can do."

"You're going to have to forgive her, you know. It's been two years. Just give her a chance."

How was he supposed to explain the ever growing pit of anger? His parents' prejudice denied his men the supplies they needed. The culture they perpetrated caused the locals to take out their anger on the troops. The Count only had power because his parents didn't care for the people. The Emperor could prance in front of the camera all he wanted, but Lelouch knew the empathy he displayed was false. 

"They'll never change," Lelouch whispered instead. "They have had a lifetime to learn but continue on their path without regard for others. It doesn't matter what I do; they will not change. And I—I won't be the obedient son they want. Lamperouge used to be a mask I wore... now vi Britannia is the mask."

"I understand... I want to tell Allie so badly. Sometimes I wish all of this"—she waved her hand—"was the lie. I want our story to be the real one and then I wouldn't have to lie to Allie."

If one wore a mask long enough, did one become the mask? Footsteps approached and Lelouch stood. As they walked down the hallway, Lelouch asked, "Is a lie even a lie if we tell it all the time? Truth is just a matter of perception. If I pretend that I'm a painter and practice every day to sell the lie, then am I not a painter?"

"I don't think others see it that way."

They stopped before the large oak doors inlaid with gold. Nunnally's fingernails pierced his arm as they waited.

"Relax. We'll walk down the stairs nice and slow," Lelouch whispered. "There is a balcony about thirty-five feet to the left behind a large statue. We'll just wait out the party there."

"Thanks." Her grip loosened.

The trumpet blared and the door began to swing open. "Announcing His Highness, Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, seventeenth in line to the Imperial throne and Her Highness, Nunnally vi Britannia, thirty-third in line to the Imperial throne."

The room applauded and Lelouch strode forward with careful measured steps. Nunnally floated beside him, her shoes striking the ground with precision. From this far away, none would suspect that she was blind. Curious eyes followed them as they descended and Lelouch grudgingly thanked the Emperor for forbidding the media's presence. An image of him and his sister would shatter the lie they built.

Prince Odysseus slipped through the crowd and greeted them at the bottom of the staircase. "Lelouch, Nunnally. It's wonderful to see you again. Come. Let me show you around."

And the earlier plan of avoiding any additional attention was thrown out of the window. Lelouch smiled and accepted the invitation. Refusing the birthday prince was not an option. If only Lelouch had found an actual excuse to not attend the party.

"Cornelia!" Odysseus shouted. "Look who I found."

Euphemia peaked out from behind her sister. "Nunnally!" she shouted and bounded up to them to grab her hand.

Lelouch kept a firm grasp on his sister as Euphie began to chatter excitedly and tug her along.

"It's alright," Odysseus whispered into his ear as he clasped his shoulder. "I know you don't want Nunnally's blindness to be common knowledge. Euphie knows a spot where they won't be interrupted."

Nunnally pulled her arm free. "I'll be fine Lelouch. I'm sure Euphie will take good care of me."

As their forms disappeared into the crowd, Cornelia clicked her tongue. "Lelouch. It's unbecoming to worry so openly."

Smoothing his face, Lelouch inclined his head. "I'm sorry Cornelia. It has been a while since we have attended such an... extravagant event."

"Make sure that remains your last lapse of judgment. Your behavior reflects upon Father and your mother. Justify your absence from court with impeccable manners and make your tutors proud,” Cornelia chided.

Her reasons made Lelouch want to act out, but angering the Emperor rashly, was not wise. Despite all his efforts, Lelouch wasn't independent enough. His presence at the party was a tactic to entertain the numerous foreign dignitaries in attendance.

Odysseus grabbed a small plate from a passing waiter with a crostini covered in caviar. "What has been occupying your time Lelouch? Everyone has had an exceptional busy year. Cornelia earned a promotion on the battlefield earlier this year. They say she's your mother's second coming."

War occupied Lelouch’s waking hours while dead eyes and gun fire haunted his dreams. They thought his life was peaceful because his mother would never allow him to come to harm. 

He grit his teeth. They knew nothing of war, especially Cornelia whose laurels were drenched in the blood of all those considered disposable. A royal life was worth more and thus she never had to stand in the middle of a barren landscape as bullets whizzed by. 

She fought from within the safety of her knightmare and never had to cower in a foxhole or listen to the screams of a man bleeding to death under a maelstrom of bullets. 

Her uniform was new and every tear mended by soldiers who she would never give a second glance. Lelouch’s boots were three sizes too large and scavenged off a dead man. 

As a royal, she could commandeer the essential supplies that never seemed to arrive for the 712th. Her war was one fought from a position of luxury and ignored good men for the circumstances of their birth.

But Lelouch could not berate their ignorance so he unclenched his jaw and said, "I'm learning about business and finances." 

Amusingly, it was true. Roy aided him logistics of troop supplies and Pablo expanded Lelouch's reach in the underground market and helped to expand Lelouch's letter smuggling operation.

"Really?" Odyssues asked. "You always struck me as preferring more impactful tasks."

Cornelia's eyebrows raised. "And Father lets you waste your time?"

"The skills needed to run a successful business are of great importance," Lelouch answered.

His two half-siblings stared at him doubtfully, but their questions were thankfully halted by Schneizel's arrival. "Sister. Brothers."

Lelouch dipped his head. "Schneizel, a pleasure to see you again."

"And you as well Lelouch. You owe me a chess game."

"Of course."

"And your sister? I thought she would be here with you."

Cornelia interrupted, "She's with Euphie. No need to feed rumors at such a young age."

"Then share my well wishes with your sister Lelouch. Your fourteenth birthday is rapidly approaching. Have you given any thought at what you might prefer to do?"

December fifth. The birthday that would end the charade and Lelouch had nothing to show for it. He was still a pawn and his father would not let him stand idly by. At fourteen, he would be paraded in front of court and expected to do his father's bidding. And with him no longer in the army, Nunnally's own life would be no more. A little under half a year to discover a solution.

Lelouch smiled. "Wherever the Emperor finds my service valuable of course."

Schneizel raised an eyebrow. "No preference at all?"

"Staying within Britannia and near Nunnally would be preferable."

Odysseus chuckled. "No foreign marriages for you."

The smile slipped and the others laughed. 

Cornelia said, "Don't worry. We'll protect your innocence a little bit longer. Besides, Father hasn't insisted on our marriages yet and Guinevere is still choosing her own husband."

Lelouch turned and spotted the purple tint and high collar that made her style. On her arm, she led a young man who gazed at her in admiration. She caught his eye and sneered. Time had not dulled her opinion of the commoner prince.

The trumpet sounded again. "Announcing His Imperial Majesty, Charles zi Britannia, 98th Emperor of Britannia and his wife, Empress Marianne vi Britannia."

No. They weren't supposed to be there.

Lelouch swallowed as the Emperor met his mother at the bottom of the stairs and offered her his hand. The crowd parted before him. They were heading directly to Lelouch. Perhaps it wasn't too late to disappear into the crowd.

Odysseus's harsh grip on his shoulder prevented any desperate escape attempts.

"Odyssues, Happy Birthday," said the Emperor. "I hope the party is to your satisfaction. Schneizel, Cornelia... Lelouch."

His mother rolled to a halt and offered a delicately wrapped parcel. "Happy Birthday, Odysseus. And Lelouch, I'm so glad you could make it. Cornelia, Schneizel. It's good to see you as well."

The smile felt tight, but Lelouch forced himself to bow and hold it for the appropriate time. The back of his neck crawled and Lelouch straightened faster than was proper. No one seemed to notice. 

His mother rolled closer and Lelouch could hear the silent command. He followed her a few paces to the wall.

"Are you alright, Lelouch?" she asked. 

There was only one answer possible to give beneath the curious gaze of the crowd. She had forced him into a situation where he would have to listen. "I'm fine, Mother."

Her smile burned and he wanted to rip it away. He was not fine. Because of her, he had been forced to endure York's unique brand of persuasion. Alex joined the OSI because she hadn’t clipped York’s wings. She did not deserve to be happy for him.

"You've grown so much. Now,"—gesturing at all of him—"look at you. Where did my adorable son go?"

He had died when the assassin struck and she sent them off to Japan. Cuteness was a useless trait.

"You'll dazzle Britannia on your birthday when you step out on the global stage. December... it cannot come soon enough."

Lelouch flashed a smile at a noble drifting too close and focused on his mother again. "Mother... The global stage does not appeal to me. I am content where I am."

She sighed, rolled closer to the wall, and whispered, "Lelouch. Everyone, and I mean everyone, will be expecting you. I know you needed time... But this childish rebellion of your will stop. You're a prince and are expected to take responsibility when you reach your majority."

Lelouch countered, "Clovis waited."

Marianne grimaced. "He's... No one expected much from him in terms of responsibility. But unlike you, he attended numerous balls and lived within the public light. At twelve, his artwork was already famous. You're my son, Lelouch. And people know and respect me. While some have forgotten that I had you and Nunnally, others have not. People are asking for you."

The festival of excess around Lelouch mocked him. They expected him to partake and forget the suffering he had seen. 

"Does it even matter. I'm seventeenth in line. Everyone knows Odysseus will abdicate and Schneizel will be the Emperor. There is no room for me here."

"If you're trying to insinuate you'll be bored, I'm sure that your father will find a task of sufficient difficulty." She paused and pursed her lips. "And if military life appeals to you so greatly, I'm sure we can arrange a command position where you can earn honor. A Number division is no place for you."

Clenching his fists, Lelouch counted backwards from ten.

Her lack of empathy was why his comrades died in droves. He couldn't abandon his friends, but he remembered her reaction when he called Suzaku a friend; she would not accept such a sentimental reason, nor would the Emperor. 

Lelouch asked, "If consorting with Numbers is so despicable, wouldn't it raise a few eyebrows when I disappear and Prince Lelouch makes his debut? Not to mention Nunnally. She won't be able to stay in school if she takes to the public stage.”

"You're hardly well known, Lelouch."

Running a mail smuggling service made sure that everyone knew of Lelouch and most remembered his face. Even those who kept their noses clean knew of him due to helping rebuff the first attack from the Count. No. Lelouch was quite well known... definitely more than he had ever intended. "Most of the camp knows my face and name, Mother."

She stared at him. "You haven't done anything of note besides some Eastern noble attempting to file a jaw dropping number of disciplinary actions against you. How would people know you?"

Lelouch curbed his tongue at the rebuke. There was no need to defend himself; he didn't need her approval. Instead, he smiled and said, "I fear Fortescue's idiocy is contagious if unchecked."

His mother crossed her arm. "How?"

"Apparently having the basic decency to treat everyone with respect is noteworthy for a Britannian."

"Careful Lelouch, others are listening," she reprimanded with a scowl. "You knew the Sumeragi girl, didn't you?"

Baffled at the subject change, Lelouch nodded. "She visited the Kururugi Shrine at times."

"What was your impression of her?"

Lelouch met his mother's gaze. Was she trying to show that she had changed or prove her remorse by discussing someone she saw as an inferior?

"Gullible," Lelouch answered. She had believed him when he claimed to be the demon of the forest. "Kind and polite." She never ridiculed her sister and tried to play with her. "Why?"

Marianne turned her wheelchair and faced the Chinese delegation surrounding their Empress protectively. "She turned her father in for treason against Britannia. Despite the upset, Charles will honor the betrothal agreement he made with her father for their cooperation."

Lelouch crossed his arms. Hadn’t she tried to dissolve the agreement? Surely, she knew that Britannian court would tear her apart. 

"If Sumeragi was willing to betray his country in the first place, then it stands to reason he would betray us again. With his betrayal, the betrothal gains Britannia nothing,” Lelouch said.

"Charles wishes to tie the Chinese Federation to Britannia. The eunuchs are worried that we would destroy Empress Tianzi's culture. The Sumeragi girl is distantly related to the current Empress, making her not only an Honorary Britannian, but foreign nobility. A successful marriage would do much to assuage their concern. She will marry whichever half-brother of yours shows interest."

"I'll be sure to avoid her then." Lelouch didn't need to be tied down through marriage. 

"Your father won't force you to marry her," his mother replied, exasperated. "I overreacted to your friend. She'll need a friend navigating Britannian politics... and maybe she'll know if her cousin survived. That's all. Nothing more has to come out of it."

It was a peace offer. A chance to know if his dear friend Suzaku had survived. It wasn't an apology because his mother didn't regret her actions, only the consequences she had incurred. Still, Lelouch thanked her. 

He drifted through the crowd, but made sure to stay far away from the Chinese delegation. He could discover the truth and resolve Shrodinger's cat... 

There was a comfort in the belief that Lelouch could return to Japan and walk down the street and run into his old friend. In that fantasy, they would catch up like old friends over a cup of coffee and depart ways. A tantalizing fantasy, it was and one which Lelouch was not ready to shatter. 

He grieved for too many already, besides, Kaguya might simply not know. 

Intent on avoiding any further confrontations, Lelouch drifted through the crowd. Schneizel chatted with nobles across the ballroom. The breeze from the balconies fluttered dresses. His mother conversed with Cornelia. Servants slipped behind tapestries as they refilled the buffet. The Chinese envoy entertained the Emperor.

"Hello Lelouch," Kaguya stood in front of him with a wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I never thought I would run into a forest demon at a royal ball."

Lelouch considered pretending he hadn't seen her, but that would cause a scene. "Hello Lady Sumeragi. I see you are doing well."

Seeing the curious nobles, Lelouch discretely led her to a secluded alcove. The towering carved bushes depicting the Emperor hid them from sight and Lelouch finally allowed himself to react.

"Kaguya."

"Lelouch," she replied with an eye roll. "That was rather rude of you, manhandling me. You're lucky I'm the forgiving sort. How have you been? I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Nor I, you." Lelouch crossed his arms. "Why seek me out?"

A small smile mocked him. "Do I need a reason to seek out an old friend?"

"Perhaps I should have mentioned to my mother the various pranks you played against Suzaku—" He shouldn't have brought him up. Hadn't he intended not to discuss him with her.

"I haven't seen him... but I haven't heard of his death either."

"Thank you," Lelouch whispered before straightening and piercing her with a glare. "You should have used your father's treason to dissolve the betrothal contract."

"I'm not pretty enough for His Highness?"

And she was just as infuriating as ever. "You know that isn't what I meant. It's nice to know you're alive, but we shouldn't talk lest people get the wrong impression."

Kaguya stepped in his way. "You know, I asked about you, but no one knows you were in Japan or what you have done since then. I imagine you want to keep it that way."

A noble passed by too close for comfort and Lelouch pulled her behind the bush. "Blackmailing me won't work; I don't care what you say. But the Emperor? He hasn't said anything for a reason and I'm not going to contradict his narrative and for your safety, you shouldn't either. This isn't Japan where your family name could protect you from consequences. This is Britannia," 

Lelouch paused and took a moment to calm himself. "This is Britannia and most of the people here will have no problem permanently silencing you. A betrothal contract to an ambiguous prince in the future is utterly meaningless."

Instead of looking concerned, she whispered, "You said Japan."

He was out of practice. Nobody at camp cared what words he used to describe the Areas... and for many, using their old names endeared Lelouch to them. "Habit is hard to break. Area Eleven. My apologies."

"Fine." She huffed and stepped towards him. "Thank you for your warning regardless. But seriously, what have you been doing? Nobody talks about you here and you're utterly incapable of blending in. You beat my father at shogi. Surely, you've challenged yourself against these nobles with... what do you call it again? Chess?"

"I wasn't too pleased to return to Britannia and life at court," Lelouch admitted. "I've been staying out of the public eye... and keeping myself busy with learning about business. I haven't had the opportunity to trounce any nobles in chess yet."

"Business?" Kaguya raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess, you're not supposed to say."

Lelouch relaxed. "To be fair, it does involve business of a sort. You'd better leave, Kaguya, before anyone gets improper ideas regarding our relationship. Nunnally is here as well. Ask for Princess Euphemia. Cite your age."

His sister would appreciate knowing that she had survived the chaos of Japan.

"Thank you, Lelouch. I wish you the best of luck." She parted with a formal Japanese bow, one Lelouch half-returned out of reflex, before finishing with the proper Britannian one.

Listening to the party, Lelouch leaned against the wall and watched the myriad of clashing colors swirl by. He didn't feel the need to return. He had been right. Lelouch vi Britannia was now the mask; a mask he no longer knew how to wear. 

Schenizel walked by and stopped as he caught sight of Lelouch. "A most curious hiding place Lelouch."

Shrugging, Lelouch ignored his elder half-brother. There was nothing to refute; he was hiding. 

"Do the festivities bring forth any ideas concerning your own birthday. With you hiding out here, no one knows what to expect of you. Is there something you will ask of Father?"

Lelouch would never ask him anything. If he had to be the man's pawn, he refused to be in his debt. "No. I will of course do whatever the Emperor requests."

Schneizel stooped and slid into the alcove and out of sight. "Would you honor me with a game of chess?"

"We don't have a board."

"Your sister played well enough without seeing one. Quite impressive, I must say. What do you say to the challenge?"

Lelouch observed Schneizel, but unable to read anything, he conceded. "Black."

"As always," Schneizel replied. "Pawn D-five."

The image of the chess board played out in his mind. Thousands of possible opportunities and counters. It all depended on how Schneizel preferred to play. "Pawn F-six."

Schneizel took control of the center board. Lelouch sacrificed a pawn and Schenizel's superior position was lost. Of course, his opponent immediately countered and left Lelouch wondering if it was better to stalemate a superior position or accept a loss to move the game forward. He stalemated and moved his knight. If Schneizel took his pawn, Lelouch would be in the superior position. It was a gamble and Schneizel responded without hesitation. Had Lelouch only done what Schenizel had planned? 

With Lelouch's knight poised to take control of the center, he broke the stalemate and captured Schneizel's pawn, putting him one piece ahead and marking his first offensive, not reactionary move. The white bishop equalized the field. The major players were coming into play. Two moves for Schenizel to castle and three for Lelouch. The tempo was once again lost. 

"Pawn D-six," Lelouch ordered after a moment of hesitation. He would bide his time. 

Schneizel responded with a logical move that would allow a castle and prevent his own king from getting pinned. 

An amateur player would have chased the check that their opponent could easily escape. A partial victory felt better than none. It was what Lelouch had done when younger. The battle against the Crows taught him that winning a skirmish could lose the larger battle. Instead, he moved the bishop to protect his own king from check. Survival was the priority against a superior opponent.

Thrown, Schneizel took a moment to consider his move. "Bishop. B-four."

It pinned Lelouch's own knight and forbade it from moving lest he wanted to lose his queen. Losing it would mean not pressuring the center field. But if he lost his knight... then his queen would have the opportunity to emerge. Meanwhile, Lelouch could regain the tempo by castling... so he did and Schenizel responded in kind. 

A lone white pawn defended the middle, but the real battle was fought on the sides. Every piece presumed to move and gain the advantage if the others moved first. A reactionary game could only be played so long until one lost.... 

Britannia was always reacting to the Count. Without intelligence or local support, the Count was free to press his advantage, even against superior numbers. He could disappear at a whim when the battle became tough or the conditions unfavorable. 

Without the snow, the Count's tactics floundered so the fighting quieted. The battle would reconvene once the temperatures began to plummet. If they could move against their invisible opponent beforehand, perhaps they could turn the tide around. 

"Lelouch," Schneizel prompted.

"Apologies. A stray thought distracted me. Knight G-five."

Schneizel took the center field with his knight. Lelouch moved his own knight to the center as well. The White Queen moved to attack and Lelouch risked his own. 

A Queen for a Queen. A pawn captured by a white valiant steed.

"Check," Schneizel uttered triumphantly. 

The noble black knight rescued the king and the white bishop avenged its steed, only to fall to a simple commoner—a pawn. The pieces were matched. Lelouch with two bishops, but no knights, and Schneizel with one of each. The end game commenced. 

The rooks moved to pierce their opponent's defenses and capture the elusive king. Schneizel's king hid behind a wall of pawns with no room to move; Lelouch's could flee. 

The Count was not like Schneizel hiding behind enemy lines where all was safe. No, he preferred to lead the battle and watch things unfold himself. Lelouch moved his pawn forth. Why was the Count silent? Hiding? Every moment wasted was an advantage squandered. Britannia continued to lose because of a lack of effort. If the Count sought to win, he would strike hard and fast with a debilitating blow. 

The white bishop fled before Lelouch's pawn. 

The Count had proven himself smart... there was a reason for his patience; one that Lelouch could not see.

The steamroller of pawns moved forward and Schneizel retreated. Lelouch forces were scattered across the imaginary board, but Schneizel's gathered in the back. 

Lelouch frowned. The Count had lost his queen, a knightmare, early on in their game. Its scattered carcass gave no clue to its origin although a slash harken recovered from one of its downed opponents suggested it had been newly crafted. How had the Count found a knightmare, which were religiously guarded by all nobles who could afford one?

If Lelouch was the Count, he would attack in the summer when countless noble officers hurried home on requested leave to attend parties. Untested officers commanded the troops in their absence... even Lelouch had been called away. Why would the Count wait?

The white knight moved forward in a move with no immediate purpose. Schneizel had stalled for time because he had no promising move to make. In doing so, he sacrificed a beat.

Perhaps the Count did not press the advantage because doing so would put him in danger. Instead, he stalled, biding time... Could the Count, like his name suggested, be a real noble?

A bishop for a bishop. 

The white knight hurried back to protect its king who had long last deployed its defense, but much too late. 

The Count's rhetoric was too fine tuned for a noble. He understood the commoner's cause too well. Perhaps a lower ranking noble with connections among commoners? But that still did not fit. Even Roy's family did not interact with nobility beyond business. A piece was missing.

A black rook for the elusive white knight. A white pawn devoured its opposing kind. The pieces were at last balanced and Lelouch's advantage lost. The winner would be decided by positioning. And whether two white rooks would beat a black rook accompanied by a bishop. 

A rook for a rook. 

The kings had to come out and play. To acquire the final piece of the puzzle, he had to force the Count's hand. The pawns marched forward across the board to the elusive destination they would never meet. The black king and white rook swiftly eliminated them. 

A lone black king stood on the board as Schneizel swept up the last of the pawns. Lelouch bowed his head. "I concede defeat."

Schneizel grasped his shoulder warmly. "A good game. You had me worried there at the end. Perhaps if you play white next time, you will win."

"I must say," a noble announced, "I have not witnessed such an engaging and tight match for over a decade. You are a very talented young man..."

Lelouch inclined his head. "Prince Lelouch."

"Ah, the ever elusive son of Empress Marianne." The noble smiled and bowed deeply. "Allow me to introduce myself, Margrave Oberstein. I foresee interesting times ahead with your debut in court. It is not anyone who can challenge our prodigious chess master Prince Schneizel."

"Indeed," Schneizel answered. "I hope you give some additional thought to your future Lelouch. There will be a seat for you in my office if you so desire."

"Thank you Schneizel. I will take your generous offer into consideration." 

And it was generous, overly so. Either Lelouch had impressed his half-brother tremendously, or a plot was afoot. If it was the former, Lelouch risked the scrutiny of other nobles who would either see him challenge Schneizel or allying with him... and that would lead to assassinations. For the latter? Lelouch preferred not to know. At least in the army, he knew where his enemies were. 

Lelouch couldn't wait to return home.

* * *

**Fuji Mountain, Area 11**

Tohdoh sat on the tatami mats across from Kirihara. In the depth of the sakuradite mines and within a hidden room, no Britannians would overhear. The aging man folded his hands together and waited for the servants to close the fusuma door. It would be a private meeting with no interruptions.

Kirihara took a long sip of tea and set it down. "I'm glad to see you are well Tohdoh."

"Thank you. And I'm glad that you have not forgotten Japan."

"Never. I will forever remember her. Britannia is a temporary beast that you will soon banish."

Tohdoh did not share his optimism. Britannia had already caused irrevocable damage. The path onward was what helped the people of Japan, not of old timers yearning for a time long past. "I hear you have taken Sumeragi-san under your wings."

"I'm not pleased with you, Tohdoh, for forcing that decision upon her." 

"A vile act to promise one's daughter to those who slaughtered their sister. And a vile outcome he received. If Kaguya hadn't turned her father in, I would have killed him myself. She sped up the timeline and used it to her own benefit."

Kirihara groaned. "That's not the issue. What worries me is that she believes she can spin the betrothal to her favor. She wants to play in Britannia's court where she doesn't know the rules. It'll kill her and I'm not ready to lose my student yet."

The Emperor had killed the majority of his court to prove a point. The consequences of Britannian politics were much more dire than Tohdoh had ever expected. Then again, he had welcomed two young royals who had survived an assasintion attempt to Japan. 

Tohdoh asked, "Has she heard from Lelouch and Nunnally?"

"Oh... yes, I remember them. A willful pair, they were wreaking havoc with Suzaku-kun's aid." Kirihara chuckled. "Kaguya actually did meet them at Prince Odysseus's birthday party. She said they were fine... and that Lelouch remembers her and Suzaku still."

"Lelouch is almost fourteen... the age of majority in Britannia. Is he pursuing any avenue in particular?"

"Apparently business," Kirihara answered with a snort. "Kaguya says he doesn't seem too close to the Emperor despite his fondness for Empress Marianne. Lelouch also seems to remember Japan fondly. She felt terribly guilty about not telling him Suzaku was alive. Said he looked like a lost puppy when she said she hadn't heard of his death."

That was a relief to hear. Tohdoh did not want to meet Lelouch on the battlefield and whatever business actually meant, it seemed Lelouch would not be their personal enemy any time soon. If he did... Tohdoh wasn't sure that Suzaku would be able to fight. The kid harbored too much guilt and Tohdoh, unfortunately, had no idea how to fix it. If only he had read his student's mental state better that fateful night. Then maybe... Suzaku would have some measure of peace.

Tohdoh asked, "Did they get along well? Kaguya and Lelouch. They never had much time to bond at the shrine... especially with Lelouch scaring her with his demon in the woods act."

Kirihara shook his head. "I considered having Kaguya seduce him"—Tohdoh winced—"but Lelouch didn't express any interest in her. To make matters worse, she genuinely likes him and would feel utterly terrible about manipulating him."

"Probably for the best," Tohdoh agreed. "Without romance, Lelouch is too intelligent to function as her puppet. He would turn the tables on her."

* * *

**La Sarre, Area Two**

Lelouch returned to his men with relief. It had been nice to see Nunnally, but interacting with his family drained him. He had spent too much time finding creative excuses to avoid his father and his mother.... and his various other half-siblings who suddenly remembered that he existed and thought his chess match with Schneizel proved he was worthy of associating with. Lelouch had fumbled through every interaction, not wanting to admit he had forgotten their names.

Never again...

Until, of course, his birthday rolled around and his father forced him to navigate the treacherous world of politics.

"Family can't have been that bad," Roy joked beside him as they walked to the bar. "What did they do? Destroy your clothes? Swap the salt and sugar?"

"Worse..." Lelouch groaned. "They smiled and were perfectly polite."

Roy stopped in the middle of the street. "I fail to see the problem there Lelouch."

"They always hated me and Nunnally. I heard their whispers... and now they're just fake. I can't tell who learnt to overcome their prejudice, probably none, and who mastered their acting classes."

"Your cynicism is refreshingly bleak as always." Roy pushed the door open and a blast of noise assaulted them. "Menu hasn't changed, but some of the locals are warming up to us. Well, perhaps only to us."

The sneering faces greeting them did not convince Lelouch. One group hurried out of the backdoor under a mounted bear head. 

"Aren't you worried they will inform the Count?"

"He's been silent," Roy whispered back and approached a table in the back corner where Frederick, Edgar, Henry, and a stranger played cards. He shouted, "Look who the cat dragged back!"

Edgar's chair fell backwards as he rushed forward and swept Lelouch into a hug and began to examine him for injuries. "You're not hurt. Maybe with you, there's a chance to get Alex to join."

"Almost sound disappointed there," Frederick called.

"Please,"—Edgar pulled Lelouch to the table and dealt him some cards—"we both know Lelouch attracts trouble. He could lose an arm and not tell us."

The stranger snorted and extended a hand. "Arthur. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. So you're the infamous Lelouch?"

Lelouch hid behind his cards—a strange assortment from various decks and matching no rules he knew. "Roy... What have you been telling people?"

Arthur laughed. "Not to worry kid. No embarrassing stories from ya friends. Just a warning to never gamble against you." His eyes narrowed and he turned to Edgar. "If that's the case, why deal him in? Ya trying to swindle me of my cash?"

Henry slapped a card face down on the center of the pile. "We don't exclude folks."

"I'm just losing my coins to ya. Scam artists the lot of you." Arthur slid a card forward.

His friends fell silent as the scowling owner stomped to their table. He refilled the glasses and slammed a pitcher of water down when Lelouch refused. An offer of coin from Arthur quieted whatever scathing words the owner would have said and he walked to a neighboring table, chatting amicably.

The table turned to Lelouch and he swallowed, looking down at his cards. Was that an Uno card? Baffled, Lelouch selected a card at random and tossed it onto the center pile. 

Edgar grinned like a cat that caught a canary. "Bullshit."

Smirking, Frederick turned over the card that Lelouch played and the table oohed. "Your loss Lelouch. Playing for secrets. Tell us one thing we don't know about you."

Of course the first thing his friends did was bamboozle him. Lelouch shook his head and sighed. "Someone is explaining the rules of this game to me after. But..." What was a secret he could afford to tell? "My mother named me after a French movie director she liked."

"Seriously?" Henry asked. "She watched French film?"

Lelouch nodded. "She made me watch _ all _ of them. I was perhaps five or so, but she managed to drag my father in and forced him to sit through her marathon. It was hilarious and since then, the movies mysteriously vanished whenever he visited. She also named Nunnally after a Britannian director."

Placing a card on the pile, Roy said, "Well. We learned something new."

A quick conversation explained the rules and a few rounds passed. Lelouch played the Uno card and smirked as Arthur called him out. His squadron knew most of his tells and waited in anticipation as Lelouch turned it over. Arthur lost the round.

"Damn. Thought I had you, kid." Arthur leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Does it have to be a new story for everyone? I'm running out of secrets here."

"Yes," Edgar quickly replied. "Pay up."

Arthur exhaled slowly. "Well... I've taken to reading the Chry—blah—Chrysanthemum Stories."

"Chrysanthemum makes an interesting tea," Lelouch commented and he remembered the Kururugis serving it to a Chinese delegation. It was a curious name.

"You've heard of it?" Arthur asked, flabbergasted. "It's not a made up word?"

"No... It's a flower. Originally from China. Strange name to use." It was also the symbol of the old Japanese Empire and happiness. 

"Well," Arthur looked away, "It's a blog. They publish short stories and personal accounts from people who aren't... ideal Britannians."

That sounded eerily familiar.

"Lelouch?" Roy asked.

Lelouch groaned. "My sister told me that she started a blog." At the curious look from Arthur, Lelouch explained, "She's blind" and the name was a not so subtle stab at the Emperor.

"Oh. An old friend of mine is epileptic. Britannia is not a kind mistress to those unable to toil under her yolk."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes at the man. The words were dangerously close to sedition and for a friendly local to speak so brazenly was strange. But then, the locals were hostile to the quartered army and willing to harass them. Lelouch had lost track of the number of suspiciously misplaced items or the times requested food had conveniently begun to spoil.

Leaning across the table, Edgar asked, "Sergeant Tamay knows about epilepsy. Do you think your friend would mind talking to him? Or me if he isn't comfortable with an Honorary Britannian?"

Arthur swallowed and folded his hands together; the painful hope obvious in his eyes. "You want to help?"

Frederick threw his arm around his friend. "Didn't you know Arthur, we're a bunch of bleeding hearts here; my boy, literally. But Roy helps everyone get supplies and has a terrible habit of giving up his own meal." A punch to the arm stopped Roy's protest. "Lelouch collects donations to help those discharged."

"You're not supposed to share that," Lelouch whined. The ruse of donations helped to cover the fact that it was the Emperor's generous allowance. "You're making me sound sappy."

Arthur smiled fondly and accepted Edgar's offer of help. The card game continued. Henry revealed that he hated gardens of all things which resulted in baffled looks and Henry crossing his arms defensively. 

In contrast to Henry's declaration of gardens being the epitome of evil, Frederick shared with a wince that his family collected various old guns. Lelouch wondered how many of them were legal to own. 

Roy lost and he stared despondently across the table. With a huff, he said, "My girlfriend's name is Selena."

"Not a secret," Frederick protested. "Come on share something juicy."

Glowering, Roy said, "It's not my fault I'm not super mysterious. Fine. I gave my girlfriend my teddy bear when I enlisted."

Edgar's mouth twitched, but the game continued on. 

Arthur was a language connoisseur, knowing Irish, French, German, and various other local dialects. Edgar's grandfather died from the Spanish Flu after he brought food to sick neighbors. Lelouch revealed his mother's cousin worked on the knightmare development which raised a few eyebrows. With a shrug, Frederick revealed that his cousin twice removed ran off to join the E.U.

"You can't just say that Frederick!" Henry interrupted as he played his card.

The table next to them emptied and an elderly man stumbled and wacked his cane against Henry. Gritting his teeth, Henry ignored them as they purposefully jostled his chair, causing him to spill his water.

"It's not that big of a deal," Frederick said as the group slipped outside, suddenly able to walk straight. "She didn't tell us anything and disappeared into the night. We only found out about it years later when an officer dropped by to interview everyone." Smiling weakly, Frederick added, "And bullshit."

Looking like he bit into a lemon, Henry grabbed his card. "Why do I keep losing?"

The continuous onslaught of secrets was shredding Lelouch's mantra of plausible deniability and making him envious of Alex who had the good sense to stay away from potentially treasonous talk he would have to investigate. 

Perhaps that was why Henry was distressed? He was the most patriotic of all of them.

Henry gulped down his water. "My family gave me up when I was five. Didn't care for me at all. But I had a younger sister Izzy and we sometimes meet. She's an archaeologist."

Hours later, Lelouch finally tracked down Alex, mending his uniform and trying to ignore an over eager knight with a uniform barely broken in. Lelouch stood in the doorway as he watched the knight eagerly pull out a thread of his own and attempt to fix the hole in his glove. Both of them were utterly hopeless at mending their clothes. 

Alex smiled falsely. "Sir. Is there something you require? There is no need for you to mend your glove. I can do it for you as well as countless others in the division."

The knight laughed. "This is what commoners do, right? I must try this for myself."

Despite looking ready to throttle his companion, Alex politely asked, "Why, sir?"

"Because I'm a commoner?"

Deciding to relieve his friend, Lelouch interrupted, "Hello, Alex. Sergeant Malfoire requests that you meet with him."

The knight squinted at Lelouch. "Who are you? And if my young friend must see Sergeant Malfoire, it would be my honor to accompany him."

"Corporal Lamperouge, sir," Lelouch replied as Alex made dramatic faces behind the young knight's back. "And truly, you do not need to bother yourself."

The knight rose and flourished a dramatic bow. "Gino... Wein at your service. I look forward to our friendship. We young commoners have to stick together. We'll embark on great adventures and I'll crush the Count from within my knightmare." 

"Knightmares are useless in the heavy snow," Alex cut in and stood up. "I'm sure you'll do fine with your exquisite skills and your company was most... enjoyable. But I have work to attend and I don't want you to injure your soft hands."

"Until next time!" Gino shouted and suddenly paused. "No. You have to help me. I'm a knight, right? So I can order you to help me. My family can't know I'm here. Why does no one believe that I'm a commoner?"

Lelouch shared a look with his friend. A noble run away in the army: a cliche movie plot. Lelouch closed the door behind him. If it hadn't been for Gwen and Rick, he would be in the same position as the young noble and utterly incapable of blending in. But the name Wein... If he was part of the Weinberg family, Lelouch risked his own identity. Margrave Weinburg was a frequent associate with Schneizel.

"You're part of the Weinberg family?"

"How did you know? What gave me away?" Gino asked desperately.

Alex stared at him. "You chose Wein as your secret identity? Couldn't you have been more obvious?"

"Well, it's not like I can change it now. There are plenty of noble families. Why would you even know them?"

"Margrave Weinberg is Minister of Commerce. Your family is recognizable."

Alex snorted. "Trust Lelouch to remember everyone important in politics, but not recognize Fadiman as the shampoo brand."

Crossing his arms, Lelouch glowered at his friend. "Politics is important; shampoo isn't."

Gino tentatively asked, "What's Fadiman shampoo?"

"The most popular commoner brand," Lelouch replied, "and the heir to the company is our friend. His heart would shatter if you ever ask him that."

Gino nodded. "I'll be sure to ask him. And why are you both so formal with me, but not each other? We're friends, aren't we?"

No. They were most definitely not friends with the noble playing commoner.

"Sir Wein," Alex said, "you're still a knight and I don't fancy a court martial because I'm being disrespectful. Additionally, we don't know you so we aren't friends."

"Then we must spend time together to rectify this travesty! Come on. I don't want to be friends with some old farts. You're both entertaining."

Either Gino would throw a tantrum and Lelouch would once again have to rely on York's fascinating ability to make court-martials disappear or Gino was truly nice and would back off. 

Lelouch pinched his nose and bit the bullet. "Once you save one of our lives, we can talk. But until then, we're not friends and have been trying to find an excuse for you to leave us alone. We didn't flee our plushy lives to gallivant off in the army in order to fulfill some fantasy of honor and power unlike you. We're here out of necessity."

Alex winced, but stood up and walked over to Lelouch and opened the door. Turning back to the knight, he said, "Don't call everything commoner tasks. Nobody does that."

The door shut and finally it was quiet.

"It's good to have you back, Lelouch," Alex said. "It's been strange without you here.The Malfoire thing was a lie, right?"

Lelouch nodded. "Haven't seen the bastard yet."

"Do you think you were a bit mean? He is a noble."

"It was that or have him following us forever and drawing attention." Lelouch's voice dropped to a whisper. "Speaking of nobes, I think the Count might be one."

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally returned to school with a bag of sweets pilfered from Odysseus's party and a heart soaring from happy memories. She had sworn Euphie to secrecy and shared her mailing address and the Chrysanthemum blog. While her brother would have disapproved, Nunnally knew that Euphie wouldn't betray her. She was just as Nunnally remembered and lonely. Euphie knew that if she told, Nunnally would never forgive her and end their rekindled friendship. The implicit threat would ensure her silence.

Kaguya had been an unexpected surprise, but while Nunnally was overjoyed to hear her old playmate again, she didn't dare to trust her. Either she turned in her father for treason because she was too loyal to Britannia or because her father stood in her way. 

For the former, Nunnally risked a tattle-tale and while she didn't have her brother's bravery to criticize the world, she refused to stand idly by. Her blog was seditious as it satirized Britannain culture. It spoke to those without a place and Nunnally had already arranged to begin translating it into multiple languages.

But if Kaguya had removed her father, she would betray Nunnally to further her own goal. Nunnally suspected the girl intended to free Japan through any means necessary. Japan's freedom wasn't Nunnally's goal. She loved the country for caring for her and her brother and hated her parents for tearing it and its beautiful culture apart. Unfortunately, there existed no return and any freedom for Japan would only be found with violent bloodshed.

Nunnally intended to preserve what was left of every culture and change Britannia so no other country would suffer the same fate. There would be no more children clinging to each other as they walked through piles of the dead. The culture of assasination and conquering would change. The strong would defend the weak, not devour them. How? She had no idea, but for now, Nunnally would settle for a blog illuminating the ills of their society.

Milly skipped up to her and pulled her into the room. "Happy Birthday! Sorry. I know you didn't want to make this a big deal, but your brother is visiting and I love parties."

"What did you do, Milly?" Nunnally asked hesitantly.

"Today's the first day of the Fall Festival!" Milly clapped her hands and bounced around the room, shifting various objects. "It's Fall now, and no one will know it's for your birthday but we need a party. We especially need a party before you have to attend all the stuffy adult ones. I had one for my birthday... and they're terrible. Nowhere as exciting as I thought. Everyone is just standing around drinking wine and... talking. And dances are all proper and the food is fancy and stupid and small. No pizza."

"Pizza?" Nunnally asked as she recovered from the sudden onslaught of words.

Milly pushed a package into her hands with coarse flower patterns. "We're going to break the world record for largest pizza! And we're using the old Ganymede. Your mother is the absolute best. She asked that we video the entire thing and give it to her so she can share it with the Emperor. Something about weapons of war being used for cooking and she looked super terrifying. Like, I'm not sure if the Emperor will be mad, but knightmares are more advanced now. You know they're coming up with a new design to market over the Glasgow? Grandpa says its barely any better, but he won't let me see his plans although he did say that when they were ready, we could use the new knightmare to try and make pizza with and—"

"Breathe Milly," Nunnally said. "And thank you. Lelouch will have an excuse to have some fun. Just... don't go overboard."

"Overboard? I never go overboard. Grandpa's allowance is nowhere near enough. Otherwise, we would make the world's largest ice cream cake and chocolate chip cookie. Ooh. For Christmas, we should make a life sized gingerbread house. It's going to be great... but open it Nunnally! I want to see your face."

Suspecting that her friend was eating too much sugar, Nunnally tore the wrapping paper and weighed the box. Walking to the table, she removed the lid and discovered a strange boxy device with a soft foamy portion.

Milly leaned over and guided her finger to a button. "It's a recorder. Can't give you a camera, but I want you to make your own memories. And with this, you can record everything that's interesting. Here's the on button, that's record. Normally there's a light, but I asked them to make it protrude a little so you know when it isn't recording."

"Thank you, Milly."

For lunch, they gathered in the student council room and took a break from the extravagant festivities outside. The scent of coffee followed Milly as she bounced around the room and presented various foods for Nunnally to try. Allie finally saved her from the president's clutches and dragged her into the neighboring room and shut the door.

Allie pulled her into a hug. "Happy Birthday, Nunnally. How long do you think it'll take for Milly to notice our escape?"

Nunnally winced at the loud crash and the excited yells. "A while. Whoever gave her sugar is evil."

"True. I saved a pizza slice for you." Allie passed a plate. "I know Milly didn't tell anyone it was your birthday, but she really went all out for the festival."

"She just wants to party. Her own birthday was a let down apparently."

Allie hummed and her footsteps faded. "She has to be the strangest noble I ever met. Saw Lord Ashford the other day and he acts like a proper noble with a face set in stone. Gwen told me she interviewed Empress Marianne and while she did show emotions, it felt fake. Creepy polite. Milly isn't like that."

Ignoring the surge of awkwardness, Nunnally said, "No, Milly isn't. We can't expect all nobles to be the same. Lelouch apparently found his own noble friend, a knight, who follows him everywhere. Brother loves to complain because he can't get rid of him and the idiot doesn't have an ounce of subtlety."

Allie laughed. "Well, not all apples are the same."

Slowly, but surely, Allie was warming up to nobility and, maybe, Nunnally would be able to reveal her secret without losing a dear friend. It wasn't fair to lie, but Nunnally had no choice if she wanted to continue her life.

Lelouch's voice interrupted her thoughts and she dashed out of the room and he swept her into a hug. Unlike last time, he didn't smell artificially clean, but of dirt, sweat, and... corn?

"Lelouch? Have you been cooking?"

"I was going to surprise you, but"—he stepped back and fabric rustled. He pushed a plastic container into her hand—"Edgar managed to convince a local to allow me to use their kitchen and Pablo shared his mother's recipe and we made tamales. This is the fifth batch although I couldn't find any good spices."

Prying open the lid, the scent of chicken, tomatoes, and melted cheese wafted upwards. Trying one, she let the flavor burst on her tongue. "You're the best, Brother."

The other student council members crowded closer and Lelouch rustled again. "These have less spice. Thank you for taking care of my sister."

Over the eager sounds of her friends, Nunnally said, "Lulu, I don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm ten."

"You're my sister. You could be a yeti and I would still worry."

Shirley squealed. "You call him Lulu? That's adorable! And he cooks."

Surprisingly, her brother did not protest as the student council adopted the nickname. Nunnally shook her head and finished the tamale with a grin. Milly extravaganza aside, this was the best birthday party to date. Lelouch was soon forgotten and Nunnally took the opportunity to rest her head on his shoulder. Unlike last time, there was no ridiculous worry about wrinkling clothes.

"Cake," Milly shouted and interrupted the peace. "You're making cake, Lulu. Chocolate velvet. You need to eat more."

Meekly, he asked, "Haven't you had enough sugar?"

"Of course not. And I know you like to cook so move it. Student council cooking contest!"

"I'm not a student council member," Lelouch protested as he was pulled off the couch

"Everyone," Milly shouted, "vote to make Lulu an honorary member?"

Nunnally raised her hand and Lelouch hissed, "Traitor."

Laughing, she replied, "Lelouch, you love to cook. Have some fun. What's the worst that can happen?"

Apparently, a lot.

Carefully walking over the kitchen floor covered in either slippy flour or sticky dough and for some inexplicable reason, water in the corner farthest from the sink. Lelouch and Milly shouted as the mixer clanged against the metal bowl, while Shirley—having abandoned her disastrous attempts at mixing—banged the dough on the kitchen island.

The oven beeped and Allie screamed, "I got it!" while Nina quietly protested that the cookies weren't gold yet.

Rivaz, smelling of ash, leaned on her shoulder. "None of us know how to cook. But your brother, he is even keeping the president in check. Think we can make creme brulee next? I always wanted to try using a blow torch."

"Out!" boomed Lelouch as another bowl clanged against the ground besides Shirley. "Everyone but Nunnally, out!"

Their footsteps scurried out without a sound of protest and the door slammed shut. Nunnally accidentally kicked Shirley's bowl across the floor as she walked over to Lelouch.

"I thought you hated being called Lulu," she said.

"Try this." He pushed a spoon into her hands and she smelled the delicious vanilla mixed with cinnamon. "It's a nickname. There's nothing to be upset about, besides, Lelouch is the name of a prince. I would rather avoid those questions."

There was something he wasn't saying, but she only said, "You really like cinnamon."

"It's a brilliant spice and impossible to find. At least Milly's kitchen is well stocked."

"Thank you for coming."

He turned on the mixer again and it nearly drowned out his words. "Without snowfall, the Count has been quiet. Otherwise I wouldn't have been able to come. Although apparently I'm racking up too many days of leave."

"Stay for longer?"

"No. I'm working on security here tomorrow, but the day after, on Sunday, we can have some time for ourselves. Maybe try to find some good spices or whatever you want."

The mixer turned off and Nunnally began to knead the dough on the flour covered counter. "Why not? I've missed you."

He pulled her into a one armed hug. "I have people relying on me and I want to stay, but the Count will attack soon and I cannot let my people face him alone."

Stifling a sigh, Nunnally turned around to find the roller Shirley had been banging against the island. He wouldn't be deterred and her chest tightened at the idea of him facing the Count across the battlefield. She couldn't lose him, but there was nothing she could do. His service allowed her to live in comfort and away from court. Ten was still too young to stand on her own feet and prove her worth.

When Lelouch said his final goodbyes, Nunnally slipped an origami crane in his bag. He had to stay safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts (They’re back!):  
-In canon, Nunnally is 87th in line to the throne. I'm saying she was pushed down the line in the anime, because other wise, Charles had a ridiculous amount of kids between Lelouch and Nunnally.  
-Kaguya always struck me as a bit strange. She very openly flaunts her Japanese heritage and according to the wiki, she was the only survivor of the Kyoto House after the Black Rebellion. Everyone else was executed. To reconcile this and her over the top obsession with Zero, I developed a new headcanon where she is related to the Chinese royalty and has a betrothal. She obviously knows who Lelouch is and leaps at the opportunity to slip through the loop hole in the betrothal. _I'm not betraying Britannia, I'm just following my betrothed who happens to be a Britannain prince and a terrorist._  
-Very random, but champagne: Kallen's nemesis. In America, it refers to sparkling wine, but in the E.U. it can only be called champagne if it's from the region in France. This is due to a treaty in 1891 which concerns trademarks. But then the U.S. managed to find a loophole due to never signing the Treaty of Versailles and therefore sells sparkling wine as champagne. In 2005 that loophole got fixed, but old champagne brands got grandfathered in. Ever since rewatching that episode, I've been scratching my head if the bottle is actually from France or sparkling wine. And whether Britannia would refer to sparkling wine as champagne...
> 
> Author's Note  
I'm fixing two name issues for York's name and Brigit's brother. Before Kaleidoscope, I wrote them once and forgot that I named them. It's Will, not Lance; and Oliver, not Einri now.  
I used to do alternate chapter titles. I stopped doing them since they were rather silly, but does anyone miss them?  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	30. A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_ For if it be asked what security, what fence is there in such a state against the violence and oppression of this absolute ruler, the very question can scarce be borne. They are ready to tell you that it deserves death only to ask after safety. Betwixt subject and subject, they will grant, there must be measures, laws, and judges for their mutual peace and security. But as for the ruler, he ought to be absolute, and is above all such circumstances; because he has a power to do more hurt and wrong, it is right when he does it. To ask how you may be guarded from or injury on that side, where the strongest hand is to do it, is presently the voice of faction and rebellion. As if when men, quitting the state of Nature, entered into society, they agreed that all of them but one should be under the restraint of laws; but that he should still retain all the liberty of the state of Nature, increased with power, and made licentious by impunity. This is to think that men are so foolish that they take care to avoid what mischiefs may be done them by polecats or foxes, but are content, nay, think it safety, to be devoured by lions. _

_ — _ _ Second Treatise of Civil Government, Ch. VII, sec. 93 by John Locke _

* * *

**La Sarre, Area Two**

In the attic of an old couple's house, Lelouch jerked upright and his hands clasped around the pistol beneath his pillow. He could have sworn he heard something. Snowflakes lazily descended outside the window. Across the room, Alex stood up and tiptoed over the sleeping bodies that obscured the floor. He picked up Lelouch's rifle and passed it to him. 

Their eyes met.

An explosion rocked the house. Glass shattered downstairs and Lelouch could hear the worried screams of the old couple beneath them. The Count had come out to play. 

The floor writhed with elbows and legs and blankets tying them together. They grunted and Lelouch pressed himself against the wall as he grabbed the radio and winced as Colonel Fortescue screamed orders. Henry opened the door and the soldiers hurried out of the door in a disorganized mess.

A gunshot.

The rifles discharged and Lelouch ran out of the door in time to see the old man, a gun in his hand, fall down to the ground. His wife screamed and reached for the gun, before bullets struck her.

Later, Lelouch would consider whether they deserved to die. But for now, he ripped his eyes away from the smears of blood staining a family portrait, and stepped outside. 

His men hid behind trash cans as bullets rained down from the sky and tore through windows. Somewhere, a baby wailed. 

"Retreat inside!" Lelouch ordered. Outside was a death zone. "Get on the roof and take out the snipers."

The bells in the crooked bell tower tolled. Despite the explosions and frantic cries, all could hear the out of tune melody.

The Count hadn't shied away from civilian casualties before, but never had he outright attacked a town without warning. These were his people he claimed to serve, but they were dying in the streets as well.

A group of Crows passed beneath the attic window and Lelouch opened fire. 

Behind him, Alex switched to code as he reported the enemy positions. 

A whine shook the air. A block down, the house disappeared in a burst of flame and smoke.

“Who the hell authorized a mortar strike!” Lelouch demanded as he gazed at the smoky remains and licking flames.

Alex relayed his questions and then winced. “Fortescue.”

“Does he not understand what danger close means?” Lelouch shifted the gun as the putrid fumes drifted over them. No. Of course not. Fortescue was an idiot. And they hadn’t even spotted any Crows by the house he had so casually eradicated.

Three families had lived in that house: eight adults, five teens, six children, and two infants.

The bells continued to ring, playing a new melody.

"The Count's been spotted in the market," Alex hollered. "We're ordered to confront him there."

The enemy gunfire ceased. Civilians rushed through the street and headed to the town's center. La Sarre had an official population of 7,000, but the streets were crowded. The Crows had dispersed among the civilians with the aid of the locals fed up with housing Numbered soldiers. 

A child hurried through the street and Lelouch grimaced. "Tell Fortescue the Count is using the civilians as cover."

Alex relayed the message and replied. "Orders are to open fire."

Another whine. Another building turned into smoke.

"They're civilians," Lelouch whispered. If Britannia couldn't protect those seen as human, then what purpose did it serve? An Empire served its people and enforced the law because without it, chaos would indiscriminately claim the lives of many. To open fire broke the unspoken contract.

Alex confirmed the orders and grimaced. “Fortescue is declaring all residents as traitors.”

Because they lived here?

The bells fell deadly silent as shots echoed through the air. Lelouch's own rifle remained quiet. The fire crackled across the street and devoured the wooden roof. The house next door, separated by an inch, began to smoke. Among the pure dancing snowflakes, ash drifts to the blood stained grounds. The civilians had fled.

"Lelouch?" Alex rested a hand on his shoulder. "What are your orders? We’re expected at the marketplace."

The bells resumed and the Crows reemerged who began to fire on the Britannian troops braving the street.

To save his men from Fortescue’s wrath, Lelouch ordered, "Fire only… only on those who are carrying a weapon."

His men opened fire on the streets below and as the civilians once again took to the street, they continued to fire. There was no way the civilians would escape unscathed. What compelled them to sacrifice their lives for a leader who stood for nothing? Unarmed, they took the street and Lelouch watched a camera man cling to the walls as he followed the crowd. Propaganda for the Count.

The Count had constructed this scene and when the video of the massacre below struck the internet, riots would descend throughout Area Two. Britannia fired on its own people and the story would end there.

"Fortescue is ordering us to the market. We have to go," Alex reminded him and then rolled his eyes. ”Thinks the Count is there.”

The death trap of the narrow street beckoned and the fire crackled over the singing bells. The flame leapt from one roof to another.

"We're taking the roofs," Lelouch ordered.

Out of the window onto the icy roof, they climbed. The drifting smoke hid their movements from snipers on nearby roofs. Lelouch crawled and stared at the suddenly silent bell tower opposite from the market. Despite leaning, the tower was taller than every building and offered a perfect view.

Crows fired, civilians filled the street, and both disappeared. Rinse and repeat.

Ears rang from the constant barrage of gunfire and the snow was no longer white.

The bells began to play a new tune.

"Stop!" Lelouch barked and his voice echoed to his men spread across the rooftops. 

A flash of light at the marketplace.

Lelouch ducked and covered his ears. The remaining windows shattered as a blast of hot air tore through the buildings and towering flames reached for the sky. 

Then the wind howled as it ravaged the streets and swept debris towards the inferno.

In the streets, soldiers moaned and Lelouch stared at the distant encampment of the 256th Division to the left of the church. They desperately needed reinforcements.

The bells fell silent and Lelouch glanced at the leaning tower. "The Count is using the bells to coordinate across the town."

Alex swore and pulled out the radio. Predictably, Fortescue did not listen. He never listened, believing himself to always be right. He had led the platoons into a trap at the marketplace and ash was all that remained. And now, Fortescue wanted to chase the Count's shadow through the town and collapsing buildings. The Count had the footage he needed and delivered another debilitating blow. 

Flashes of light from the encampment showed that reinforcements had finally been deployed. The fodder had sprung the trap and now the lords and proper Britannians would sweep through the street to catch any straggling Crows. Unlike last winter, the Count wasn't seeking support anymore or proving his strength. He was on a timeline and had to strike a devastating blow. Surely, unlike all previous times, the Count and his Crows would stay.

The bells continued to ring the same slow melody. If the fight was over, the Count's agent at the bell tower would leave as well. The fight was not yet done.

"It's another trap, Alex," Lelouch said. But what was the Count's objective? "If the Count has been sighted, it's because he wants us to chase him. We have to go to the bell tower."

"Our orders are unchanged."

Perhaps, Lelouch shouldn't have pissed off Fortescue. Maybe, then he would have listened. 

Lelouch grimaced and listened to Alex rattle off the coordinates for the town hall far from the church. The Count was drawing them away and the knightmares began to race through the narrow streets. The reinforcements would funnel through the streets and collect in the small courtyard with the broken water fountain. Then they would race past the bar where Lelouch and his friends had relaxed. The town hall had to be a trap, but unlike the 712th, the 256th was well equipped with commanders that wouldn't knowingly send their men into traps.

The Count wouldn't be able to defeat them. Movement in the north caught his eye and he watched as a figure ducked in a narrow alleyway. The line of chimneys pointed to the encampment. The Count needed to hurt Britannia and he lost his knightmare last year. 

A minor distraction would keep the army pinned down at the town hall while the Crows flocked to the minimally defended camp. Before, the Count always disappeared after his major strike and they had no reason to suspect otherwise. If Lelouch's Division regrouped and followed the Crows to flank them, they could prevent him from completing his objective. Perhaps even capture the elusive Count.

Alex shook his head. "We need to move."

OLB12599 . A birthday gift from his father. With it, Lelouch could override Fortescue's orders, but at what cost? He was surrounded by his comrades who would understand that something was amiss when Lelouch rattled off his code. Not only would he be admitting to the Emperor that he needed his power to succeed, but compromise his own position within the army.

He should use it and save numerous lives.

His men trusted him and while an authorization code from the Emperor himself was uncommon... it wasn't unheard of. There would be questions and Lelouch could end the fight and save more men from the trap the Count was about to spring. 

But did he need it? 

His men stared at him, ready to follow any order. Lelouch did not need to become the Emperor's agent. They would do it on their own. 

And maybe, Lelouch grimly hoped, Fortescue would finally meet his end in the upcoming attack. 

"We're going to the clock tower. Private Chapul, Reyes, and Moore, you will climb the bell tower. I want you to capture the Crow alive. They may know what the Count has planned."

A moment of hesitation, but they saluted.

"Lelouch," Henry warned, "this is mutiny."

Lelouch stared up at him. "Will you stop me, Private Sullivan?"

His jaw shifted and he clenched shut his eyes. "If you do this, you will be charged with treason, Lelouch. Colonel Fortescue wants to hang you and this is all he needs."

"Either follow my orders, or step out of the way. I'm not allowing more people to die."

The fist whizzed by his ear and Lelouch's heart hammered. In a hand to hand fight, he would lose. His men shifted and a few stepped forward. They would rather follow Lelouch than Henry. They knew that Fortescue didn't care for their lives. 

Henry growled. "You're my friend, Lelouch, but this is madness. I won't allow you to throw your life away. Stand down."

"No," Lelouch replied. "If I do nothing, I will not be able to forgive myself."

Henry lunged forward and Alex intercepted the blow, striking Henry in the chest and pushing him backwards. 

Rolling on the rooftop, Alex shouted, "Lelouch go!"

Ignoring the stab of guilt, Lelouch began to break apart his men and they dispersed over the rooftops. Ten men left to trail the Crows into the nearby alleyway, five headed to the town hall to buy time before Lelouch’s treachery could be discovered. Another ten ran to warn the camp of the upcoming attack.

The remainder followed Lelouch as he darted across the rooftops away from Alex and Henry's brawl to the leaning bell tower. The Count was a proud man and Lelouch was betting on him being there. Guns fired in the streets as the knightmares screeched and Lelouch could hear the civilians shouting below. A block from the church, they ran into the medics and Edgar waved hesitantly.

Lelouch looked up and watched one of his men scale the tower. Everything was going to plan. Passing Edgar, Lelouch ran to the large wooden doors. A muzzle peaked out and Lelouch dove to the side. Distant shouting echoed from within the buildings. 

Two of his men crawled beneath the decorative window and opened fire.

"We surrender, we surrender," the priest shouted and pulled open the door.

Lelouch walked behind his men into the simple church and looked at the closed stairwell door.

A few Crows cowered with their hands on their head and the weapons thrown on the floor. They didn't dare to resist as Lelouch ordered their capture.

"Lelouch," Edgar admonished, "this is a church."

"So?"

He groaned and pointed at the trembling priest. "The priest offered them sanctuary. They're injured."

Lelouch scowled at the man with pristine white robes. "He is harboring terrorists. The bell tower is being used to organize the troops. They're under arrest."

Sighing, Edgar turned away and pointed at a Crow with blood pooling beneath their feet. "At least allow me to treat the injured,"

“Very well," Lelouch agreed. His friend would complain otherwise.

The closed door to the stairwell mocked him and Lelouch, wary of a trap, had his men stand at ready. The door opened. Nothing happened. 

The tolls of the bells finally ceased. The team had succeeded. They dragged a snarling woman down the stairs and threw her at Lelouch's feet. His men sneered as she rose to her feet. 

Lelouch's neck prickled as a small breeze passed through the broken window. "You will tell us everything you know."

She spat out a gob of blood. 

"Very well," Lelouch replied, running out of patience. He had cut off the Count's communications, but the lack of resistance made him worried. The bell tower was essential to the Count's ploy. He shouldn't have left it unprotected. "A finger it is."

The soldier standing beside her did not hesitate. The finger snapped.

Lelouch swallowed the bile in his throat. York would have done the same but Lelouch didn't have time. He needed to act now.

The woman shivered as Lelouch approached and Edgar moved forward, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Lelouch, this isn't right," Edgar hissed. "Arrest her, but this would be inhumane."

Shrugging off the offending hand, Lelouch forced a serene smile as he took a step closer. "Do you know what happens to Britannian prisoners?"

She glowered.

"It will start simple at first. They will shave your red hair and sell it to make noble wigs. Afterwards, you'll be forced into a straitjacket and you'll lie on the ground as you wait for your guards to decide what to do. It doesn't even hurt but you'll lie there unable to move no matter how hard you struggle. It sounds easy, right? Hold your silence as nothing happens and the cell becomes colder and your feet go numb and hunger gnaws at your stomach."

She flinched as he stopped before her. A faint tremor ran through her body. 

Lelouch tutted. "And as time will pass, you'll wonder what they want. The guards never speak except to feed you meals which will never be enough. How many days of silence do you think you'll survive?"

"Bastard," she hissed. "I will never say anything."

"Oh, no, you misunderstand me," Lelouch mocked. "By then, any information you'll have would be worthless. You could say anything you want, but it wouldn't change your fate. It will be years before the sun warms our pale skin. That is the prison sentence for a high ranking Crow. And you had a very important job, didn't you?"

She flinched as his hand half raised. "I don't know anything."

"I'm sure," Lelouch replied and turned around. "Of course, the information you have is important now. I'm in a hurry so either you can remain silent as we break your bones and live in a haze of pain within a cold prison cell or,"—a glimmer of hope flashed through her eyes and he knew he had her—"you do your duty as a loyal Britannian citizen and face a minor charge for obstructing military personnel."

She raised her hand… and flipped him off.

The wooden door of the confessional banged. A pistol rammed into his ribs and Lelouch twisted in an attempt to dodge.

His attacker did not move and his arm snaked around Lelouch's neck, dragging him backwards. His feet struggled to find footing and Lelouch tried to ignore the gun at his side. He refused to die. Nunnally would be devastated.

Twisting his head, he caught sight of the familiar mustached face. The Count.

Shit.

"Anyone moves, I shoot," the Count warned.

Lelouch's nails dug into the Count's arm, intent on drawing blood. He couldn't win in a challenge for strength, but Lelouch would fight to the last breath. 

The Count pressed his arm against his neck and Lelouch could feel the slow burn of a lack of oxygen. He had precious few minutes to find a way out of his debacle.

Yanking down on the offending arm, Lelouch lowered his chin and rasped, "You're outnumbered. Even if you kill me, there's nothing to stop my men from killing you."

"Yes, isn't it exciting?" the Count replied. "The Numbers won't risk you coming to harm. The consequences are too great."

If it had been Fortescue, everyone would have fired regardless. Only their loyalty and belief in Lelouch's ability to escape impossible situations stayed their hands. They would attack if they knew Lelouch had no chance of escaping.

Lelouch should order them to fire. They had the chance to kill the Count and end the conflict. Only, with Lelouch's death, his mother would swear vengeance and all his friends would die in the backlash. 

"Intelligent of you to determine my plans. But there were no orders to attack the bell tower and you came with only a handful of men. Do you know what I think?" the Count asked.

Who had betrayed their codes?

"No," Lelouch whispered at the long pause. Black spots began to swarm his vision and he would have to act fast.... but why did the Count almost sound... feminine?

"You and your men mutinied. Britannia will punish you." The Count paused and laughed as Edgar's eyes widened in horror. "Such loyal men. Your commander didn't listen to you because you're a commoner. Imagine if they had? I would be caught instead of holding your life hostage. The army is wasting your talents. The Crows can always use more intelligent minds."

The arm loosened and Lelouch gasped for breath.

If Lelouch had used his father's code, then the Count would have been caught. Instead, Lelouch had been over ambitious and took a risk. Now a gun to the ribs threatened to bring the wrath of his mother. He could accept the Count's offer in hope of backstabbing him, but the Count hadn't survived this long by being stupid. They were a noble—although a slight hint of an accent hinted that they hadn't been raised thus— and knew how Britannia operated. They probably expected him to try and trick them.

"I'm afraid our politics differ," Lelouch replied with an open ended question. The longer the Count was interested in talking, the more likely it was for Lelouch to find an opportunity.

The arm tightened again. "That won't work. But you'll have time to think upon my offer. I think it's time to go."

The soldier next to Edgar groaned and crumpled to the ground with a barely stifled scream. Edgar immediately turned and knelt down. 

"Don't move!" the Count ordered.

Edgar shook his head and cut open the uniform. He threw the bloody cloth in between them. "I'm a medic. This man is going to die. So shut up!"

The Count stiffened.

Lelouch watched as Edgar moved rapidly and opened his medical kit to pull out gauze and rubbing alcohol. The panicked hands flayed and the bottle of alcohol fell to the ground again. The hands closed and opened again. The fingers trembled.

A code that Lelouch had taught during long guard hours blending into meaningless hand movements. 

Fire. Duck. Left. Four. 

Fire. Duck. Left. Three.

Fire. Duck. Cat? No, Edgar only needed to find a pair of tweezers. Left. Two.

Relaxing, Lelouch prepared himself to move.

Fire. Duck. Left. 

Lelouch dropped his body weight and a burst of flames blinded his eyes. The Count stumbled and the arm around the neck loosened monetarily. Grabbing their thumb, Lelouch pulled and dove to his left. Leaping over the dying flames, Edgar grabbed Lelouch and pulled him out of the way.

A gunshot rang through the air and his men ducked behind the benches as they returned fire. Lelouch lay on the ground with Edgar's weight pressing down on him. 

The Count groaned and glass crunched. From outside, more gun shots rattled the still air. Turning his head, Lelouch watched the red haired woman who rang the bells bleed out. Her accusing eyes met his.

The church fell silent.

Edgar groaned and rolled off Lelouch. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Lelouch whispered, the air still stolen from his lungs. "Thank you."

"Good."

Lelouch's eyes snapped to the broken window and a dead Crow lying on the ground. The Count had escaped. "Find the Count!"

His men nodded and raced after, but the Count knew the streets well. He was already gone. With a curse, he rose to his feet. Everything had gone wrong. They were so close, but Lelouch had nothing to show for it.

"You're bleeding." Edgar’s hands pressed against his side.

Lelouch looked down at his uniform and the growing red stain. He hissed at the sudden realization of pain. No longer on an adrenaline high, his sore neck took the opportunity to express its displeasure, followed by a stinging ankle, and bruised arm.

"The bullet grazed you," Edgar said as he applied pressure. "You need medical attention."

"Fortunately, you're here," Lelouch joked weakly. His friend remained silent and Lelouch glanced at his pasty face and the slow puddle of blood pooling beneath him.

Edgar met his gaze with a soft smile.

"No, no, no! You're going to be fine."

Edgar shook his head and pressed clean gauze into his hands. "Apply pressure for the next ten minutes."

"No, stop worrying about me, you idiot. Please, take care of yourself. You have to," Lelouch begged. He couldn't lose another friend. They had survived training together. Edgar was supposed to be safe. He was a medic. Medics did not get shot.

"Tell Frederick —”  Edgar lay down on the ground and fumbled with his jacket, pulling out a letter. "Tell him, tell him, I'm sorry."

Rolling onto his stomach, Lelouch propped himself up on his elbows and frantically ripped the pants to look at the wound. Blood gushed over his hands and Lelouch shifted closer, applying pressure. The blood continued to seep through. "Edgar, you have to hang in there."

"Did ya know, there's an artery in your leg? Runs right from the heart and pumps so fast. Promise me..." Edgar hissed. "Everything's swaying. But—but—promise me, Lel—Tell Fred I'm sorry. I broke my promise."

No. The wound continued to bleed and Lelouch's eyes searched the glass strewn floor. There! A lighter. He had to stop the bleeding.

Edgar's hand wrapped around his wrist. "Apply pressure. I'm not letinn ya die. Pressure."

"But you—"

"No." Edgar glared. “Would needa cauterize. Not ya fault.”

“Yes it is!” Lelouch fruitlessly tried to tug his hand free. Fire. He could do that. Edgar wouldn’t die.

“Don’t be stupid. Nothing ya coulda done.” Edgar closed his eyes. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Lelouch froze. “No. My father’s the Emperor. I’m a bloody prince. I could have done something. Anything.”

Edgar opened his eyes again and chuckled weakly. “Ya father sucks, kid. Right bastard. Still, not ya fault.”

Finally peeling off the stig fingers grasping his wrist, Lelouch dove for the lighter. Glass sliced through his palm. He clutched the lighter and staggered over to Edgar and his fingers fumbled to light the flames.

Lelouch pressed the flickering flame to the wound. The bleeding had slowed. Good.

His eyes swept over Edgar's frozen chest. No. His jaw hung limply. No. The skin was pearly white. 

Lelouch reached out to Edgar's neck, despite already knowing what he would find. No pulse.

Dead.

No.

Chest compressions? There had to be something he could do! Anything.

There had to be a pulse.

"Edgar… Please?" Lelouch couldn’t lose him. “Give me something.”

A shaky breath? A weak heartbeat? A sign of life?

Nothing.

Lelouch had gambled to save lives but lost. Edgar was dead because he failed to clear the room. Not caring for who could see, he finally cried and applied pressure to his own wound.

Hours later, Alex limped to his side and stood by him in silent comfort as soldiers entered the room and carried out the body. Alex ripped off one of the dog tags and pressed it into Lelouch's hands. Two men pushed past him and lifted Edgar's still form. He was officially dead. Just another tally on a clipboard to be counted at the end of the day.

...

Lelouch absently stared at the ledger. Swallowing, he added Edgar's name and his salary to the right. The endless dead names and numbers blurred in front of him, but Lelouch continued on regardless. There would be no compensation for the dead men. Lelouch would help their families who relied on the paycheck. Later, never, he would mourn the loss of his friend.

He wrote down the next name. Discharged due to injury.

What would happen to them once Lelouch finally left? The days to his birthday were rapidly disappearing. Soon, one of his parent’s agents would pull him aside and send him on the next flight to Pendragon. 

Would he still be there to pay his final respects when Edgar—

And what would his friends say when they saw his face in the newspaper, declaring him as a prince? Betrayed? Confused? Angry?

They should be angry at him. His family perpetuated the cycle of abuse and pain. They gave men like Fortescue power. And Lelouch? He was a coward hiding from his name. Allowing people to die… to preserve his anonymity.

Why hadn’t Edgar been angry? Betrayed? Instead… he laughed.

Someone cleared their throat behind him and Lelouch set the pen down, but didn't dare to look. He didn't want another apology. It was his fault. If Lelouch had been better, then his friend would still be alive. "Yes?"

"Lelouch," Henry said, "we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. I have work to do."

Henry huffed and his heavy footsteps crunched as he walked in front of Lelouch. "You've been doing nothing but working on your list. It can wait."

"No, it cannot," Lelouch snarled. "I have to finish this."

"You're beating yourself up for nothing. When was the last time you ate?"

Crossing his arms, Lelouch shot back, "Why do you care? Edgar's dead because of me. I messed up. You were right. Leave. Me. Alone."

"No. if you're going to starve yourself, then I'll be sitting here right with you. Edgar wouldn't want you to waste away. I don't want you to waste away." Henry ran his hand through his hair and sat down on the log across from him. "First, you need to get your story straight."

"Story?"

He rolled his eyes. "Colonel Fortescue is once again asking questions because he wants to pin something on you. Unfortunately, this time, you actually did something stupid which will get you in trouble. Your men have been covering for you. But your story needs to align with theirs."

"You're willing to lie now?" Lelouch asked skeptically. "You cling to rules. You should be gloating. You were right. I was wrong. I won't let anyone take the fall for me."

"Stop being such a—" Henry cut himself off and clutched his head. "I know I shouldn't be encouraging you to break even more rules, but I didn't try to stop you because I thought you were wrong, Lelouch. Your plan made sense. I wanted to follow it, but I can't lose my friend over charges of treason. And Alex follows you too blindly."

Another failure of Lelouch's. 

Henry shook his head. "But I will protect you even if it is from your own idiocy. You can hate me, but I prefer you alive."

Why did everyone put his needs above theirs? Lelouch wasn't special. He was a liar: an imposter. He didn't deserve their kindness.

"Come on, you need a break. Roy and Frederick are in the bar and even Alex said he is going to join after he finishes his duties. We're a squad and we all miss Edgar. Let us mourn him together." 

Lelouch didn't reply. The letter burned in his pocket.

Grumbling, Henry grabbed the ledger and pulled Lelouch to his feet. "We're going."

They walked through the charred carcass of a town and Lelouch averted his eyes from various small memorials lining the walls. The military had cleaned all the bodies and it would take days before any would be processed and the locals could begin to identify their corpses. Of course, many bodies wouldn't. It brought too much scrutiny and York would be standing there, ready to catch any Crow idiotic enough to search for their friend's body.

With boarded up windows, the bar rested between two charred buildings but looked relatively unharmed. The owner scowled as always as they entered, but didn't say anything. Shattered picture frames hung from the wall and Lelouch noticed that not a single glass rested on the normally filled shelf. 

In the corner, Frederick and Roy stared into wooden mugs. Edgar's chair waited silently for the guest that would never return.

Offering them a shaky smile, Lelouch sat down but didn't say a word. A phantom hug pressed against him and he could hear Edgar nagging him to eat. 

Gingerly, he passed Edgar’s letter to Frederick whose eyes widened and grabbed it reverently. 

“He was always prepared,” Frederick whispered and turned the letter over in his hands. “I… I haven’t even written mine. I thought it would be me and I was trying to find the words… He should’ve been safe.”

Henry shook his head and pulled the mugs away. "I'm not carrying your drunk asses home. You three are all going to eat."

Rolling his eyes, Roy asked, "Brought you here as well, Lelouch? Dragged me and Frederick here by our ears and wouldn't take no for an answer." He turned to Henry. "At least let me drink in peace."

"No," Henry replied before walking to the owner. He returned to their sad table with a pile of steaming food. "Eat."

Lelouch's stomach grumbled and curbed his instinctive protests. Maybe he was hungry? Softly, he said, "Thank you, Henry."

"Shit kid," Frederick replied. "Forgot you were there. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"My fault," Lelouch mumbled as he nibbled on a chicken wing. "If he hadn't saved me—"

"—Stopping you right there,"—Frederick chuckled weakly—"because Edgar would save anyone no matter what and especially you." Looking into the distance, he continued softly, "That's the kind of person he is—was."

Striking the table, Lelouch hissed, "But I failed to check the room. If I—"

Roy grabbed his hand. "I know it's hard, but you can say ask endless what ifs and it won't change. Edgar wouldn't want this... He would want us to move on and be happy... all of us."

Lelouch nodded. It wasn't fair to worry the other two with his problems. And Frederick had loved Edgar. What right did Lelouch have to grieve? Pushing the pain and grief and anguish aside, he dusted off his mask and put it on. He had friends to make him happy.

"Seems you got through," Henry said and sat down. "But you best take your own advice Roy."

Slowly grabbing a plate, Roy stared down at the food in disgust. "How can you be—" He waved his hand at Henry.

"Practice," Henry said gruffly. "Practice."

"Practice?"

He shrugged. "People die, but if you just sulk, then you're of no use to anyone."

The door banged open and a hunched form stomped to the bar and sat down, resting his head on the stone counter. The owner helped him slip out of his heavy winter coat and hung it by the back door. They whispered softly and Lelouch took another bite of the chicken wing. It tasted like ash.

"Is that Arthur?" Roy whispered as he took a delicate bite. 

Frederick turned to Edgar's open seat and paused, his face contorting. "Maybe." He spat, "The civies were helping the Crows. Traitors the lot of them."

Remembering the chaos and even the children running in the street, Lelouch held his silence. He had no room to talk and hadn't found a way to save their lives. The town had coordinated against them which proved Britannia had failed in it's duty to the citizens. Edgar would have been helping people on both sides in the street, but that selflessness killed him. 

They didn't invite Arthur to join them. He had been pleasant enough, but Roy and Frederick's eyes were hard as they bore into his back. There would be no forgiveness and simply being in the town, made Arthur complicit in their friends death. 

"I'm glad you're alright. Fortescue... if he hadn't—" Or if Lelouch hadn't been a coward and used the damned code.  OLB12599 . Just three letters and five numbers. The troops would have followed his command and the catastrophe of defeat could have been avoided. Sure, the army had stayed in the town and the Count had been forced to quickly withdraw, but it didn't feel like a victory... or even a draw.

How could the Count consistently play them as fools?

"Aye," Frederick replied after a long pause. "Would have thought with the General dying and every other half-decent officer, Fortescue would finally run out of luck. But he's a cockroach."

Setting down his drumstick viciously and missing his plate, Roy said, "He is our superior. Lelouch, you know the rules even if you insist breaking them half the time"—Henry's knife clattered on the table—"Isn't there anything we can do? Surely, such... ineptitude is worthy of demotion."

"No," Lelouch replied. If there had been, Fortescue wouldn't have risen through the ranks in the first place. 

Frederick scoffed. "Getting a promotion right now, probably. Good men dead and I saw him sipping the fine wine. Without Major General Bludwig, nobody is around to stop him now."

"I'd take the Vampire right now.” Roy laughed bitterly. "At least he's honest about the men he kills."

"Knight of the Round, he may be, but no one should take that much delight in slaughtering."

Something crashed in the kitchen and their voices once again lowered.

Henry glared at the two. "Careful, the Emperor chooses his knights himself."

It spoke more on the Emperor's lack of decency—that he was willing to employ a man of Luciano Bradley's nature—than of the inherent honor of knighthood.

Continuing, Henry said, "Lelouch is enough trouble as is. No need to talk of such... unflattering things."

"Lelouch," Roy asked aghast, "you didn't? Fortescue is going to kill you."

Looking down at the wooden table and its captivating spirals, Lelouch said, "I was stupid. I know. But I'm going to take the blame."

"Remember the Drill Sergeant?" Roy asked. "He warned you. You cannot take the blame on yourself. Fortescue won't hesitate."

"Maybe I deserve it!"

They recoiled.

“Kid,” Frederick whispered, looking at him with pity that Lelouch did not need. 

Roy reached across the table and Lelouch shot to his feet, knocking the chair down. He needed to work on his ledger. His men and their families didn't need to suffer for his failings. 

His legs trembled, plagued by fatigue.

Arthur stood up and stepped into his way. "Sorry. I couldn't help but overhear. Rough day as well?"

Baring his teeth, Lelouch said, "At least give us the courtesy to mourn in peace."

Arthur stepped back and raised his hand. "Easy there. Losing someone you love... hurts. But don't take it out on me.”

He had been one of the few people in the town to treat them with courtesy while the other locals sneered. Who had listened to their jokes as they dared to relax while knowing the Count’s plan? Which of the familiar faces joined the Cows and civilians in the street to provide cover for the frantic army?

"It's not his fault," Henry interrupted and a heavy hand settled on Lelouch's shoulder "Come on, sit. You're not leaving until you stop looking like a walking corpse."

Lelouch let himself be pulled back down to his seat. Arthur followed, sitting in the empty chair and ignoring their flinches. 

"My friend," Arthur began, "he died in the fight. Wasn't doing anything, but staying in his room. But the house caught on fire. He wouldn't have been able to leave on time, especially not into that chaos."

Slouching, Lelouch tried not to think of the initial mortar strike which began the blaze or the second explosion that rocked the town and swept through houses with a fiery inferno. Arthur had lost people too. 

How many ignorant souls had stayed in their houses, cowering as bullets tore through their windows, and fire licked at their walls, and smoke stifled their lungs? 

"I'm sorry," Lelouch whispered. "We tried."

Arthur's eyes tightened and the smile was a tad too sharp. "I know. If it hadn't been for the Count, the Emperor would have protected all of us."

The room blurred slightly and Lelouch's stomach growled again. He really should eat. Edgar would never forgive him if he failed to take care of himself. Blood loss was said to addle the mind and Lelouch's emotions were an uncontrollable mess.

He bit into the food and swallowed. It's what Edgar would have wanted.

The dizziness didn't abate. 

Frederick pushed away his plate and Henry dug in.

Leaning across the table, Roy stole back his mug of beer and raised it. "To a good man and an even better friend."

Henry lifted his mug of water and pushed back the stolen mug. "Edgar. Your loyalty will be missed." Then slyly, he added, "Don't worry, I'll make sure Lelouch doesn't get in too much trouble."

"Hey," Lelouch protested, "I don’t go looking for it."

"You know," Frederick mused as he set down his mug, "Edgar always thought you had pissed off someone in your past life. He was this close to asking other folks for charms to ward off your bad luck."

Roy laughed. "He has plenty of good luck. I think someone cursed him to live in interesting times." Tilting his head, he peered at Lelouch. "Did your father ever deny an old lady hospitality?"

"To my knowledge," Lelouch said, "My father does not consort with witches." For if they existed, the Emperor would most definitely have been cursed long before.

Roy hummed. "You do find yourself in the most interesting situations. It's like you have a quota."

Lelouch's face burned.

Beside him, Henry said, "Well, meeting the Count again should fill that quota."

Arthur coughed. "You  _ met _ the Count!"

"Tried to shoot me,'" Lelouch said and wished for the subject to change.

Frederick groaned. "And here we were chasing every mustached old man Forstecue thought was the Count."

Imitating Fortescue's eastern noble accent, Lelouch said, "From this day forth, all mustaches are hereby banned for bearing the Count's likeness. With this edict, the Count shall be defeated."

The group laughed and quickly fell silent as they realized Arthur was beside them. He grinned. "That's a good accent kid. Sounds like a real noble there."

"Lelouch's a deft hand at them," Roy replied and his words were beginning to slur. "Can make a fool think he's an officer. I never get the annunciation quite right."

Lelouch shook his head and winced as the room began to sway. "You keep trying to speak like a westerner."

Roy's smile suddenly slipped and he stumbled to his feet. "Something's wrong... I don't—don't feel good." 

Whipping his head around, Lelouch stared at the empty bar with wobbling lines. A body thudded to the ground and Lelouch reached for his pistol as he sprung to his feet and immediately collapsed to the floor: poison. 

Frederick breathed shallowly on the ground across from him and Lelouch watched the owner's feet pass by. Pulling his gun free, he heard Henry's chair scrape against the ground and shouts echoed distantly.

The gun trembled in his weak hand. 

Henry crashed into the floor and swept out his leg, catching the owner by his knees. He too fell down on the ground and Henry jumped to his feet, only to fall moments after with a thud. He groaned and Lelouch could see a bruise already forming around his eyes.

Confused, Lelouch forced himself upright. Next to him, the owner staggered to his feet and kicked a groaning Henry in the side.

A hand ripped the gun out of his hands and pulled him to his feet. Arthur leered across from him, before slamming Lelouch down on the table and pinning his arms behind his back. A cold gun pressed into his side.

"Get me some rope," Arthur ordered.

"I thought we were killing the scum."

"You can dispose of the rest, but the Count will want to see this one."

No. Lelouch would not see more of his friends die, but the weight on his back made it impossible to move.

"Can't you just shoot them?"

Arthur laughed coldly. "And bring the rest of the army running? We make 'em disappear and they'll think it's desertion."

The owner grumbled, but with one final kick at the limp bodies on the ground, he walked away. Lelouch winced as Arthur pulled him backwards and the situation was eerily reminiscent of the one with the Count. But this time, Lelouch wasn't faced with a towering captor.

He threw himself backwards, his head striking the back of Arthur's sharp chin. For a brief moment, Lelouch felt his stomach rise as he hung in the air and the air was forcibly expelled out of his lungs. He stared at the ceiling.

Two Henrys rose from the ground and darted forward to help. Lelouch opened his mouth, but he couldn't breathe, and the warning died on his tongue as the dual owners returned and each tackled a Henry.

"I hate this bastard, always drinking water." The blurry form rose. "You alright?"

"Just give me the rope." Arthur pushed Lelouch off him and tied his hands with a coarse rope. "Thought he'd already be out. You've got things on your end."

"None of them were eating much," the owner replied as his hazy form settled into one image. "He's not going anywhere." He grabbed Henry's leg. "Help me with him before he wakes up again. Built like a tank."

No. Lelouch grit his teeth together. His muscles burned and the room swayed. Arthur trudged over to Henry and grabbed him by the armpits.

"Damn, he's heavy."

The body lifted in the air and Lelouch drew in his knees. Why was it so hard to stand up with hands tied behind his back? He needed to kneel first. Lelouch sat up.

Arthur turned. "You have to be kidding me. You're tiny, how do you even have the energy to move?"

Lelouch didn't bother to reply and glared at Arthur as he defiantly brought a knee up and clambered to his feet. His two foes stared at him in amusement as he charged in a swerving line.

Dropping the body, Arthur's legs swept out. Lelouch struck the ground and his head rattled. 

"Give up. You're only making it harder on yourself. You can't win and while I'm bringing you to the count alive,"—knee pressed down on his back—"it doesn't matter what condition you are in. So spare yourself the pain. Alright?"

"I won't let you kill them," Lelouch hissed.

"Really?" Arthur asked. "And what are you going to do without a weapon, tied up, and drugged?

"I'll figure it out," Lelouch spat and his eyes teared as the knee pressed into his kidney

The door jingled and Lelouch was pulled to his feet while the owner stood up. 

"Just drunk," the owner called out, "we're taking them outside to sleep it off."

Lelouch blinked at the short bleary form: Alex. Alex who had promised to come later. Alex who could save them.

Sure enough, he drew his gun. "Step away."

"There's no need for that, they're drunk."

Alex didn't hesitate; the gun fired. The owner collapsed.

"Hands up where I can see them and step away."

Arthur tightened his hold around Lelouch and the cold gun once again pressed into his side. "You're going to turn around and leave."

"I'm warning you." Alex stepped forward.

They stepped back. "I will shoot him."

"I'm not letting a terrorist walk free," Alex replied and if Lelouch didn't know him, he would have thought Alex was completely willing to let him die.

"Then shoot." Arthur chuckled. "You have no trouble killing innocents before. The life of a comrade in exchange for capturing or killing me. An easy trade and nothing compared to what you have done. But if I must die, I can at least rid the Count of an annoying pest."

Pest. Not royal or noble, but simply pest. Why was Lelouch suddenly important? Or was it because the Count, as they previously said, wanted to use Lelouch. But that implied that Arthur was close enough to the Count to know.

Flicking his eyes to his downed friends, Lelouch rasped, "Save them."

And Alex who always followed him and would never go against his wishes, snarled, "Go."

Arthur stepped back, dragging Lelouch's limp form behind. Then another step. And another. Closer and closer to the back door where Lelouch would be at his mercy. 

They passed underneath the mounted bear head and Lelouch knew the backdoor was just behind them. Possibly, he would find an opportunity to escape, but Lelouch had proven himself to be unruly already. Arthur and the Count would be careful and Lelouch didn't have time. He was a prince and his parents would avenge his absence.

A phone call took minutes; a letter weeks; and the official report about a month. Would York inform his mother of his kidnapping or would he instead put his affairs in order and wait? Of course, who knew what resources his father had deployed. Perhaps none or maybe another OSI agent watching from afar. Lelouch had no way of knowing and if he wanted to save his friends from his mother's fury, he would need to escape as soon as possible. 

Playing nice and luring them into a fall sense of security was not an option.

Slowly, he drew in a breath as to not alert Arthur of his intentions. He would have moments before Arthur finally covered his mouth. What was essential?

He shouted, "The Count wants me! They sent—"

Arthur's hands slammed over his mouth and he could taste bitter sweat.

The door closed painfully slow as Alex threw caution to the side and raced towards them.

Dropping Lelouch, Arthur grabbed an axe leaning against the wall and jammed the door. It rattled, but held.

Lelouch fought past through the haze. His rapid heart pushing the sedative through his blood. The wall provided support for Lelouch to slide up. His head pounded and the hazy black dots swirled in his vision.

"I'm half curious to see how far you will run before you collapse from exhaustion," Arthur said as his hand clamped down on Lelouch's shoulder, "but you'd probably escape on sheer willpower."

"Why?" Lelouch turned and stared at his captor as they walked outside. He had lied for months on ends to his friends as he entertained them in the bar. "We never did anything?"

Angry, Arthur pushed him down on the ground and opened the trunk of his car. 

As the trunk began to close, he finally replied, "Soldiers looted Oliver's house. They murdered him in cold blood. He was loyal. Didn't want anything to do with the Count despite Britannia spitting on him every moment it got. and—" he laughed and it was dark and broken without a hint of humanity—"you killed him for it."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:  
-What is the drinking age in Britannia? I'm inclined to have it be something specific to each Area. There's also the question whether the consumption and/or purchase of alcohol is illegal underage.  
-The safety of combat/field medics depends on the countries involved. Generally, medics are not on the front lines, but in certain conflicts they were targeted on purpose. As this is never addressed in the anime, I'm having Britannia have a general policy of not firing on medics.   
-Britannia does have laws concerning the rules of engagement and what is appropriate in combat. For example, a soldier isn't supposed to deliberately kill another solder within the army as it is perceived as a slight against the Emperor. Unfortunately, there is a difference between what is legal and what is enforced. The 712th division is considered expendable and Fortescue has enough influence to avoid trouble and instead gain a promotion.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Sorry, but not sorry?  
See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	31. Perdition to Conspirators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Following chapters contain torture and possible trigger for hypersensitivity

_ On the night of November 28th, the Count released footage captured from La Sarre and caused massive riots through Area Two. The populous, tired of critical shortages such as food and medical supplies, raided the empty houses of numerous nobles who had traveled South for the Winter. Guards were quickly overrun or sided with the mob. After the first day, desperate nobles called upon the assistance of the Britannian military which further escalated tensions. _

_ Due to stringent Britannian censorship, historians remain unsure about specific events. Personal accounts suggest that soldiers deserted and defected en masse to aid the civilians. According to other accounts, such attempts were made but squashed due to the liberal use of decimation—killing every tenth soldier suspected or associated with treason. It is highly likely that both scenarios occurred within separate divisions although no concrete evidence corroborates that an entire division attempted to mutiny despite persistent rumors. _

_ Riots only began to calm after liberal promises from Crown Prince Odysseus and finally with the arrival of the popular... _

_ —'The December Riots of 2013,' in A Brief History of Britannian Social Movements _

* * *

**Hadano, Area 11**

Suzaku followed Kudo through the newly constructed ghettos as snow dusted the ground. The suburban homes that once formed the region had been swept aside and replaced with Britannian constructions. Endless farm fields and pluming factories surrounded the ghettos, boxing them in.

Sparkling Britannian highrises dotted the horizon. And closer, but separated by the farm fields, stood the domineering villa of Margrave Shaft. The white limestone walls were quarried from the nearby ravished hills. Heavy marble, shipped from the newly reopened mines in Yamaguchi, built the facade. 

The villa was pure Britannian and Suzaku glared at the ugly monstrosity and the ravished Mount Fuji looming behind it. Not content with crushing the Japanese, Britannia destroyed their cultural monuments and reformed the landscape to suit their needs.

An ebony basalt statue of the Emperor with a guard by its side glared down at Suzaku. Others respectfully lowered their gaze, but Suzaku stared up at the stony eyes. This… was Lelouch’s father.

The statue had no resemblance.

The bag of books dug into his shoulders and Suzaku hurried past, unbowed. Helping his people and giving them the tools to survive was his duty as the son of the former Prime Minister. He needed to help his people. Everything was for the people. 

What would his father say?

He had believed in the rule of law without a single inch of leeway. It was all or nothing. No remorse.

This world... Suzaku averted his eye as a pair of children ran by with protruding ribs and tattered clothes. Some ran barefoot through the snow. This world wasn't as rigid. If he did nothing, his people would suffer. The rule of law was worthless. Britannia only cared for its own. 

Kudo pulled him into a narrow alleyway between two towering concrete buildings. A small ladder hung limply from a window and they began to climb.

The room was packed with children sitting on the ground and poring over scrap pieces of paper. A few weary eyes looked up to acknowledge them, but a harsh shout from the only adult forced their gazes down.

"You have the supplies?" the old man asked and waded through the sea of children, his cane striking the ground and sometimes hands.

Kudo gently lowered the bag. "We got some books. Not a lot of medicine this time."

The old man bowed. "Thank you."

And then they were on their way again. Britannian flags marked the location of resistance cells. Sometimes, they had to wait for a ladder to be lowered. Other times, a child would greet them in hurried Japanese and guide them further into the alley ways to some dimly lit room. 

This was what Japan had been reduced to.

Suzaku stopped as they passed a courtyard where two Britannians stood guard as people filled pails of water. An old lady dropped a handful of coins and the guard kicked her.

"Patience," Kudo said as he grabbed his shoulder. "We're helping already."

Dropping his gaze to the ground, Suzaku didn't reply but followed silently. Kudo was right. There was nothing he could do. If he moved in to defend the woman, he would be arrested. And a new guard tomorrow would repeat the same actions. Their resistance had to be a subtle one.

His father would never have bowed his head. Let an elderly woman suffer while he walked past. 

Storm clouds began to roll in and Suzaku pulled his patched jacket tighter. He was lucky to be well equipped courtesy of Tohdoh-Sensei and his incessant concern. But Suzaku loathed accepting food and clothes while others suffered. They didn’t have access to the stream of supplies smuggled in from the E.U. or China or bartered for with stolen sakuradite. They didn’t have the luxury of knowing a small fortune—courtesy of his wealthy family—waited for them in the vaults of Australia if they ever escaped Britannia. They had nothing but what they scavenged during the invasion and valueless Yen.

Suzaku’s former job had provided him financial security and protection from overzealous Britannians. A Number in service to a respected business owner wasn’t worth the trouble harassing, not with more lucrative targets abound. And Lord Ashford? He curbed the worst impulses of the police he employed.

Not like Tsukuba… Or here…

Where the guards were simply the local extortionist demanding tribute in return for not being robbed. They functioned like the Yakuza, but without any honor. The rules outside of Tokyo changed from day to day according to the guard’s mercurial moods.

But then even Lord Ashford’s little fiefdom wasn’t perfect. His old boss had vanished into thin air. Her little stand was taken over by an angry man who beat a Number for any excuse he found. 

Suzaku winced at the reminder of the man bearing down on him with a knife when he dared to ask what had happened to his former boss.

She hadn’t liked Numbers, but wouldn’t have let such abuse stand. Maybe, she would have become one of the rare Britannians indirectly helping the JLF. But she had vanished with only whispers of treason left.

Treason.

Never had Suzaku thought he would commit treason. He was the Prime Minister's son and expected to be morally righteous. He would have married Kaguya and maybe years down the line, be pushed to run for Prime Minister himself. Treason was unthinkable... just as it had been for Lelouch.

Yet Lelouch had lied to save his life.

"What are you thinking about?" Kudo asked as they passed through another checkpoint with forged IDs.

"Just an old friend," Suzaku whispered. "Wonder what he would think about this?"

"There's always a chance you'll be reunited. Or do you think he would have become an Honorary Britannian?"

Honorary Britannians... Suzaku wasn't sure what to think of them. It was a system that offered a route to full citizenship, but one had to join the military. To become an Honorary Britannian was to betray Japan and renounce its culture, but it also allowed people to feed themselves.

How many people starved on the street? 

Suzaku should never have killed his father. They should have fought. Instead of dying under the might of the Britannian army, they were slowly being drained of life while providing maximum utility for Britannia. 

The smell of rotting corpses still haunted him. 

He had made the right choice. Otherwise, everything was worthless.

"He's alive," Suzaku finally replied. "He's a Britannian."

"Brits are no friends of ours," Kudo snarled. "They'll always look down on us."

His old boss had been kind, but then she disappeared. Lelouch... "He was a good friend."

The slap to his face stung and Kudo glowered at him. "Keep your eyes on the mission. All Brits are the enemy. Every single one. If your former friend stands across the battlefield from you, you will shoot before he kills you."

The guns in the bottom of the bag weighed heavily. While Chiba had taught him how to use a gun, Tohdoh hadn’t been too eager to have him transport actual weapons. He only relented after Suzaku resigned himself to playing shogi in the evening with Chiba and he swore to only fire the gun in self-defense.

Then Tohdoh had dumped an excited Ko on him and taken a picture. 

"You mongrels! Stop," a guard shouted in English as he ran forward. 

They stopped dutifully and Suzaku watched as Kudo’s hands strayed closer to the gun hidden beneath the bulky jacket. 

"Why ain’t you speaking English, you filthy Elevens!" 

Suzaku stepped to the side as the guard attempted to push him. 

The man smiled and called out to an older guard with a more lavish uniform. "Look at what I caught! This Eleven thinks he's hot shit. Too good for us."

Kudo kept his head bowed, but his hand reached inside the jacket.

"You think you are special, Eleven?" The older guard approached and stood by, his arms crossed.

Suzaku bowed, a proper Britannian one. "No, sir. I didn't intend any insult."

The younger guard laughed and pulled Suzaku's ear. "You mocking me? Talk all stiff and formal like you're someone special."

He had picked up Lelouch's accent. All Britannians sounded the same to Suzaku, but as the soldier from long ago said, he spoke with a noble accent.

"What? Nothing to say brat?"

"Try not to touch him, Ryan. You might catch something and then who’ll clean my gear?" said the older guard.

The guard let go, wiping his hands. "Right. But we've got to teach the Eleven his lesson. Speaking your filthy language, mocking me. I can't let that go."

"Please, my nephew is just a boy,” Kudo finally interfered.

"Empty the bag." The older guard took a step forward, his hand resting on his sidearm.

Suzaku glanced at Kudo. Their bag was filled with illicit goods.

"Waiting here, Eleven. Or are you stupid?"

Suzaku set the bag down on the ground and waited for Kudo to make his move. Unclenching his jaw, he said, “My apologies.”

The younger guard's baton whirled out and struck the side of his leg. Suzaku grit his teeth as he sank to the ground and tears welled in his eyes. He could have dodged. Could have moved in and broke the man's arm. But then what?

"Stop mocking me!"

"Well maybe your English just makes the Emperor cry," Suzaku snapped back.

Kudo groaned.

The older guard snickered. "The Number got you there, Ryan. How does an Eleven speak like a noble? And bow like one too?"

Shit. Lelouch had only taught him three bows. One for nobles. One for royals. And the last if he ever met the Emperor. But he had used the first one?

"You are under arrest," the older guard finished.

Suzaku ducked beneath the first puch, weaved around the next offending hand, and fell as a stun gun struck his side. He wheezed as the pain faded, but the older guard was efficient. Cold handcuffs settled around his wrists.

Kudo glanced between him and the approaching guards. He dove for the bag and ran, leaving Suzaku to his fate.

"We'll catch your uncle soon enough, don't worry. There's been rumors of Elevens organizing. You wouldn't know anything about it?" the older man asked as he deposited Suzaku on the ground.

Suzaku glared back, silent.

"Let's start with something easy. What's your name?"

He had promised to live, so he remained silent. The Prime Minister's son was still a valuable playing piece. Britannia would kill him.

The younger guard scoffed. "He's obviously stupid."

"No," the older guard said. "Just has something worth hiding. I'll make you a deal. We'll let your coward of an uncle run off, and you tell me who taught you how to bow."

Suzaku swallowed. His conspirator couldn't get caught with the goods. People needed them. "Before the war, a Britannian friend of mine taught me."

"Friend?" The younger guard laughed. "No proper Britannian would be friends with Numbers. Either a traitor or playing you as a fool."

"Says the man who can't speak proper English. I bet you can't tell the difference between the spine and edge of a blade, as well." 

"Why you—"

The older guard raised his hand. "A name if you will please."

To buy Kudo more time to escape, Suzaku was about to blow his cover. Although, they probably wouldn't believe him. "Lelouch."

"That's French," the younger guard said, crossing his arms. “Even I know that.”

The older guard paused in thought as his gaze dissected him. "You do not understand the significance of the bow you used, do you?"

"Are you complaining that I bowed even though you aren't a noble?" Suzaku asked, incredulous.

"Ah, apologies. I have failed to introduce myself. Earl of Kansas, eldest son of Margrave Shaft." The lord bowed mockingly.

Suzaku lowered his eyes respectfully, cursing himself. Margrave Shaft owned Hadano and he had attracted his son's attention.

"Your friend wouldn't be Lelouch vi Britannia?"

The young guard stared at the lord incredulously and Suzaku flinched.

"Most curious," the lord murmured. "He must hold you in high regard. A Number. Of course Lady Sumeragi— You know her as well? You were a noble before your country's conquest."

"Japan was a democracy," Suzaku countered. "We didn't have nobility."

"Functional nobility. A handful of families controlled all of Japan. You only paid lip service to the people. Now the question is which family did you belong to?"

Suzaku glowered. His father had defended democracy. They were not like Britannia. Everyone's voice had mattered.

"Take him. The prince will thank us for finding his self-declared friend."

And if Lelouch didn't, they would grill Suzaku for his friend's weakness or use him as leverage. Politics. But if Empress Marianne heard... then he was most certainly dead. His cousin may have somehow carved a role for herself, but Lelouch's mother hated him with a passion. 

"I won't help you," Suzaku declared. "I won't hurt him."

The lord smirked. "No need. The rumor that the son of Marianne the Flash is friends with a terrorist will work just as well. And we'll apprehend your so-called uncle soon."

The guards hadn't stopped searching.

"You bastard! You lied."

"Are you that naive?" The lord turned around as a car rolled up to them.

Suzaku sprung to his feet and swept out his leg. Without his hands, he wobbled slightly, but his kick landed true and dug into the lord's side. Spinning around, he drove his shoulder into the guard's chin. 

A gunshot echoed through the plaza and people began to scream.

Behind him, the lord toppled.

Kudo ran up to him and pulled Suzaku out of the way. "You couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you? Let's go. Tohdoh will kill me if I let anything happen to you. Run!"

Suzaku obeyed.

Sirens echoed through the air as they hid in a small room and Kudo repeatedly cursed as he tried to pick the handcuffs. Finally, the cold metal fell free. "Why the hell was he interested in you, anyway? Come on, we need to move."

Saying he admitted to being friends with a Britannian prince was stupid. "He must have recognized me."

"As what?"

"The Prime Minister's son," Suzaku whispered.

Kudo froze. "Damn. No wonder Tohdoh said your safety was my highest priority. You do know what the Brits will do to you if they find you?"

"Kill me, I know.”

"No. They’ll prance you around like a freaking show pony. You're a damn symbol. The people look up to you and the Brits will use you to defang the entire resistance. They'll say look at the Prime Minister's son who is broken at our feet. And every time someone rebels... they'll parade you out in the streets as a victory trophy. Prime Minister Kururugi's body is lost for a reason."

That was why Lelouch's mother had asked for the knights to recover him alive. He had forgotten.

"I... understand," Suzaku whispered.

"Then don't mouth off to the Brits," Kudo replied. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

**A Cell**

Lelouch woke, gasping for air as freezing water burned his skin. Harsh fabric clung to his face and he reflexively tried to remove the offending cloth, only for his bound wrists to burn. Thick, coarse rope tied his legs and hands, leaving no room to move.

What had happened? Where was he? 

The last chains of tiredness burned away as he slammed his elbows and bare heels into the cold, stone floor. He stared into the darkness and the small pinpricks of light seeping through the hood. Taking a deep breath, he pushed down the instinctive urge to struggle.

A kick to the ribs.

Lelouch scooted backwards, his back pressing into metal bars.

"You're being unusually harsh," a stranger said, her voice eerily familiar.

The hood was ripped off and Arthur leered down at him. "This one kept trying to escape. Who keeps an escape kit in their boots? Not to mention that I practically had to overdose him to finally knock him out... And he broke my tail light!"

Lelouch didn't reply as memories of being confined to a dark trunk and his friends lying on the floor of the bar, returned. Were they alright? Alex... he had been there. Lelouch had to believe they were fine. Just like Suzaku. 

But Edgar wasn't. He was dead, wasn't he?

The red haired woman leaned uncomfortably close. "The soldier from the church. We meet again. All of this trouble could have been avoided if you had agreed to join me instead."

Lelouch glowered. The Count was indeed a woman. No wonder the OSI had floundered to discover her identity.

"The church?" Arthur asked. "He's the one on the radio."

What radio?

The Count pursed her lips and the faint amusement vanished, replaced with a simmering fury. "A noble stole my victory in Ottawa, Art. Not some snot nosed brat who had the intelligence to find me at the bell tower."

Arthur—or was it Art?—shrugged. "I checked every noble officer and even the local lord. None of the voices were a match and our moles couldn't find any record of the event. Closest match was Fortescue, but he didn’t have the capacity to win. That's why it took so long. He's a commoner."

She towered over her subordinate. "And when did you, Art, begin to suspect my foe wasn't a noble? Or did you wish to spare a commoner the pain they deserved?"

"Almost a year ago and you're right, but"—Art glared at Lelouch—"they're all guilty."

"Yes, Oliver was innocent," she murmured. "I trust you have learned your lesson, Art."

He bowed his head. "Of course. What do you wish to do with him?"

The Count's dress spread around her feet as she crouched down. "You've denied me my victory, not only once, but twice. Most people don't live for round two."

Behind the Count, the buzzing electrical light illuminated other empty barred cages in the refurbished wine cellar. Either the Count didn't keep many prisoners or the cells weren't used for long. 

"Not talking are we? I did offer to let you join me and I keep my word." She tilted her head. "So what will it be?"

Lelouch, his mouth and throat painfully dry, rasped, "Would you even trust me?"

Looking inordinately pleased at his reply, she said, "Fear and hate are wonderful motivators although I rarely am inclined to devote my attention to one person. But you've proven yourself useful, haven't you? Britannia gives you nothing, yet you somehow manage to be a thorn in my side."

Maybe Lelouch should be begging for his life. He needed to buy the time to escape and he was useless as dead.

With an eerie smile, she pulled out a camera and the white bulb flashed in his eyes. "Britannia must be punished for its crime and you are just as guilty for serving in the army. You fire on innocents, destroy their homes, and steal their livelihoods. How should I punish you?"

Art crossed his arms behind her and his glare never wavered.

Lelouch knew what was coming. The illusion of choice as York liked to say. The torture became the prisoner's fault. He had been forced to stand by numerous times as York broke through their walls with glee. Never had he thought he would be in their position.

But the gleam in the Count's eyes was just like York's. They were cut from the same cloth, but this time there wasn't a veil of civility that curbed her actions and the truth of his heritage would not save him. 

He didn't want to answer. Either he would choose a punishment too light and she would use it as an excuse to punish him further, or he would choose a punishment that satisfied her which would undoubtedly be too harsh. Could he really make that decision? Knowingly condemn himself? And what would she do if he failed to play the game to her satisfaction?

Her fingers drummed along her knee.

He had to buy himself time. Something harsh enough, but survivable. But why did his throat constrict at the thought? He needed to breathe. He could survive this if he played his cards carefully. 

Flogging risked infection; stress positions—in the hands of the over eager—kidney failure; electricity, heart failure.

Lelouch closed his eyes and played the game. "No food." 

Opening his eyes, he stared back at her waiting impatiently. It wasn’t enough.

“No sound…” Still, no reaction. When would it be enough? Or was he doomed to fail? “No light.”

"Well, that's rather boring," she complained, but straightened. "Still. It's what you chose. Art, put the hood back on."

He hated himself for the rush of relief. And then the flash of panic as he realized what he had subjected himself to as Art stomped up to him with the hood in hand.

Their footsteps faded and the electrical light turned off, trapping him in a tomb of darkness. At least he was still alive.

His eyes fell close as the remnants of the sedative pulled him into a dreamless slumber.

He woke to silence and he tugged fruitlessly on the rope binding his wrists. The pangs of hunger gnawed in his stomach. Lelouch pushed himself upright, leaning against the freezing wall. How much time has passed since his disappearance? Did his mother know already?

While she might be able to rescue him, Lelouch hoped not. His friends would be caught in her fury. If he wanted to save their lives, then he had to stage his rescue himself

If only he could see.

The rope around his bare ankles cut into his skin but he pushed himself into a seated position. A refurbished wine cellar was not the equivalent of a Britannian cell with smooth edges. And the rope around his wrist could be sawed loose. 

In trying to escape from the trunk, he had lost his boots and coat which would have made the current endeavor easier. Instead he had wasted them and been greeted with civilians who scowled at his uniform and happily turned him over to a Crow. The single cold dog tag burned against his chest.

Far away, water dripped.

Gentle and steady. 

He clung to the sound within the tomb. 

He was so thirsty.

How long had it been?

His heart beat rose. Blood pounding through his ears.

Steady breaths. Deep— He couldn’t breathe. Get enough air.

Cellars had little ventilation… Would he die here with each breath poisoning his body?

No. Steady breaths. Inhale. Hold. And exhale.

The water continued to drip and he began to count, his heart and breathing calming.

At 1,435 drips, Lelouch lost track. His eyes pressed together tightly and he watched phantom lights dance across the darkness. They twirled. Green, red, and blue. Occasionally, purple eyes stared at him accusingly and asked why he hadn't come back.

2,456 drips. 

1,915 heart beats.

6,892 drips.

He lost track again. His skin shivered and he wrinkled his nose at the putrid stench of ammonia.

1,345 drips.

Everything was black. He needed to see. How could his sister live like this?

Pushing his head against the wall, he tried to wiggle out of the hood. This needed to end.

Why was it so hard to breathe?

His head felt light and his stomach sloshed as he shifted.

Why had he chosen this? Something physical would have been over faster.

He needed to escape.

Waking and dreaming blended together, neither offering escape from the gnawing hunger. Sometimes he woke, only to wake up once more, realizing that the former had been a dream. Or perhaps sleep had simply claimed him again.

Water dripped, marking the relentless passage of time.

In the hours awake, he futilely rubbed his bound hands against the rough rock. Maybe the Count would forget him and friction would overcome the bonds that held him captive. 

Sleep was dangerous. Every person he slayed haunted his dreams. The assassin with blood dripping onto his hands, the Japanese teenager falling backwards as Lelouch’s bullet flew true, the old man on a snowmobile tumbling to the ground and the blood staining the snow… and Edgar bleeding out with Lelouch unable to save him because of his damn pride.

There were civilians as well. Nameless and faceless. But Lelouch knew each had a family and he had ordered his men to fire into the crowd. Their deaths were on his hands as well.

He had failed, utterly.

Footsteps echoed through the cavernous room and Lelouch straightened eagerly and shoved his guilt aside. He shouldn't be eager to see his captor. A light switch clicked. Light filtered through the material.

The hood was removed.

Lelouch gasped for breath, the air burning his painfully dry throat, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Arthur, no Art, didn't say a word as he cut loose the ropes around his wrist and leg. Lelouch lifted his arms with their dead weights and shook them to help the blood flow.

"Up." Art's voice thundered through the deadly silent cellar. “The Count wishes to talk to you.”

Lelouch rose. Took a step forward. His legs collapsed. Again, he rose.

Feet spread apart and knees locked, Lelouch hobbled forward and caught himself once more as his right leg refused to take his weight.

Again, he planted his left foot on the ground and pushed. Every joint ground into each other and popped as he straightened. He could feel the bones grinding and his muscles trembling. He rose. Straightening, Lelouch stood still and glanced at Art.

Art shook his head and grabbed him by his arm. "I'm just doing this because I don't want to drag you out."

Slowly and awkwardly, they entered the neighboring room and the hidden door silently closed behind him. Art turned left and Lelouch took in the rows of wine. He had been right. The Count was a noble. 

Art caught his breath at the top of the cellar stairs.

“What does the Count want?” Lelouch dared to ask.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Art grumbled.

Another set of stairs stretched up to freedom and Lelouch committed their location to memory. Lelouch's legs trembled and shook with every step as they ascended. Sometimes, he stumbled, but Art's firm grip kept him upright.

The beautiful but deafening sound of rain greeted his ears. It was distant, far away. Lelouch was not close to the walls of his prison. Decadent paintings and marble statues peeked from beneath haphazardly thrown cloths.

Art pushed him into a bathroom and passed him a white bundle. "You stink.”

The tiled room was painfully clean and Lelouch, covered in grime and dried blood, defiled its presence. Spitefully, he ran his fingers along the wall and enjoyed watching the dirt mar the sterile white tiles. 

Three minutes later, he stared at the mirror feeling more refreshed than he could ever remember. His knees still wobbled and his thumb continued to tingle, but he was ready to make an escape. 

He brushed off some gravel from his shirt and for the first time noticed his blackening bruises and scabs. He couldn't remember the cause... The time in the trunk had blurred by.

He had tried to escape, right? 

That was why there was gravel.

Turning on the faucet, he quenched his thirst and the water settled uneasily in his empty stomach. 

A knock on the door. Lelouch turned to face his captor.

"You didn't put on the clothes," Art said.

Lelouch straightened. "I don't need them."

"You still stink." Art stepped inside.

His friends were relying on him. 

Lelouch shot forward, slamming his palm into Art's nose. Suzaku would have been proud. Not wasting a second, Lelouch ran out of the room. He didn't know how much time had passed. If he didn't return before his parents learned what happened, his friends would die. Every second was precious.

The maze-like corridors blended together, but Lelouch committed every one to memory, even as his captor gained. Up ahead, he heard the rain finally grow louder. Right, left, forward, past the staircase, right, right, past the oil-painting of a violin. And as Art finally caught his gasping body, Lelouch repeated the path to himself.

Next time, he would be faster. 

Art pushed him against the floral embossed Lincursta wall. "Why do you insist on making it harder for yourself?"

"I'm not keen on dying," Lelouch hissed, but stilled. There was no opportunity for escape right now.

"I'll make you a deal. You don't do anything stupid from now until you return to your cell and I won't put the hood back on."

He was returning to the cell, which implied that the Count did not intend to kill him yet. Of course, it could all be a lie. Art stepped back and Lelouch stared at his eyes, before nodding. If he saw an opportunity to escape, he would take it.

Without the hood, perhaps Lelouch could discover a way to escape.

Art smiled and pushed him up a servant corridor and into the Count's large room. 

While sparsely decorated, every item was obviously chosen with great care and worked well together. The work of a professional. Sitting at a small table in the center, the Count sipped tea and watched him with cold, calculating eyes. The blinding light drew attention to her immaculate clothes. She set down the tea cup and glided across the room.

Circling him, the Count said, "I've been looking into you, Lelouch Lamperouge. There's hardly any information to be found. You lived on the Ashford Estate. Had part time employment with both Lord Ashford and the local newspaper." 

She paused. "The house you rented was in your name, not your parents. While records of your parents are almost nonexistent, you have a younger sister attending Ashford Academy and you're paying the rest of her tuition."

His heart pounding in his ears, Lelouch did not respond.

"Your military record is just as splotchy with gaping holes although that seems to be rather common in your division." She stared into his eyes. "You even lied about your eye color. Like you don't want to be found."

Lelouch's mouth dried. Where was she getting her information?

"Tell me, do you think you've repented for your crimes?"

Crimes. Was she referring to the crimes of Britannia that she ascribed to him or his own? Nunnally was blind because he reacted too slowly to save her from the cabinet. He had watched the slaughter of the Japanese but done nothing and joined the very army responsible for their destruction. He had followed orders which led to his men being killed and disobeyed orders only for more to die. 

He should have protested York's abuse because no matter how many times he tried to rationalize it... the prisoners didn't deserve to be tortured. And to make matters worse, hadn't Lelouch used those tactics in an attempt to gain the information he wanted?

But worst of all, Edgar was dead because of him. 

"I'm sorry for the pain I caused," Lelouch whispered. 

And he was. There were so many actions he could have taken but had been too blind to see. His hatred for his parents led to him dismissing anything that reminded him of them. In doing so, he failed in his duty. If only Lelouch had used the code and then maybe Edgar would be alive. Or if he had used it earlier, how many more lives could he have saved?

"Prove it by taking up arms against Britannia. They had caused countless suffering and you helped them."

"No," Lelouch spat. "Your actions sowed discord through Area Two. You kill indiscriminately and bring untold suffering. How many families have you broken? How many people have starved because you raided supply lines that feed the people? How many people going peacefully about their day died in one of your attacks."

She coolly countered, "And how many citizens have you shot? How many businesses and homes have you destroyed? How many people have you kidnapped and tortured for knowledge that they do not have? I have plenty of evidence."

Lelouch laughed. "You claim to be the lesser evil, but you do not have the ability to succeed. The Emperor would rather burn the entire Area than let you win. You have no chance at victory and yet people suffer for your pointless show of egotism."

“My ego?” She laughed. “No. Britannia made me. My mother sold herself to the local lord so my brother wouldn’t die at the age of three. Two years later, she disappeared and my father, sick and tired of the burden of raising an invalid, left. The lord who claimed to have loved my mother, couldn’t even be bothered to lift a finger to help me. Our neighbors considered us useless and would have let us starve to death. That is Britannia.”

Lelouch scoffed “And what? You suffered so everyone is guilty?”

She only wanted revenge. A blind hatred with no focus or plan was worthless.

"You haven't repented. What a pity. Art, restrain him." The Count turned away and grabbed the kettle as Art complied with her orders. "Perhaps I made a mistake letting you choose the punishment last time, but I see that additional correction will be necessary."

She walked forward and Lelouch struggled as the steaming kettle neared. 

"Right hand or left?"

He didn't choose quickly enough and she yanked forward his right hand. The kettle began to tilt. The water poured.

Lelouch flinched.

The scalding water steamed as it struck the carpet, narrowly avoiding the hang tightly clenched in her grasp. 

The hot kettle slammed into his chest, knocking the air out of his lungs. The Count turned around as if nothing happened and poured herself a new cup of tea. Setting the teacup aside, she picked up the plate of scones and a knife.

"It wouldn't be fun if you were easy to convince, but as I said, fear is a powerful motivator. Perhaps not fear of pain. You brace yourself and are willing to accept it to stay strong to your ideals. Fear is what keeps citizens in line. Fear of losing their job, fear for their family, fear for their life. It's an effective tactic, but I reveal the cause of those fears and they learn to hate. Fight is always stronger than flight. What do you hate?"

Many things, but Lelouch wasn't idiotic enough to say them out loud. "You."

She sighed and passed the plate of scones to Art. The appetizing aroma wafted past him and the Count disappeared from view. Lelouch strained his ears as he tensed for the strike that would undoubtedly come. York would do the same and prevent Lelouch from reading his mercurial moods.

A slender arm snaked around his neck and the Count breathed into his ear as she toyed with the knife in her other hand. The light reflected off it and Lelouch watched the sharp edge with trepidation as she slid it over his arms, tearing through his issued uniform and leaving a thin red angry mark. The knife glistened and rose into the air. 

It pushed against his throat.

"If you insist on being obstinate, then you are of no use to me." 

The knife dug into his skin and Lelouch could feel it pushing into his airway, obstructing the flow of oxygen. He took a shaky breath and his skin stung.

"Bleeding already? I guess slitting your throat would make a mess on the carpet. Art, be a dear and remove the rug."

Art stepped back into view and ignored Lelouch's pleading eyes as he began to roll up the floral carpet.

She was going to kill him and Lelouch couldn't allow that. 

"Please," Lelouch rasped and the knife dug deeper.

"What do you hate?"

He had to answer, so he lied, "The French. They killed my grandparents during the War and the E.U. is a bunch of hypocritical bastards."

She laughed. "So that's why you joined the army. Revenge."

"It's not patriotic," Lelouch protested.

The answer pleased her and she stepped away. "Give him a scone and some tea, Art. We have manners after all. And then take him back to his cell."

The walk back was silent and the scone melted on his tongue, easing the gnawing of his stomach. They returned to the cell and Lelouch let himself be bound up. 

He had thought the Count would have been more eager to sway him to her side. York would never have killed a prisoner. He found the threat of death boring. The Count was practical and her eyes gleamed with a hunger and, unlike York's, it wasn't one of control and the desire to discover the essence of a person. 

No. 

Her worldview was already fixed and immutable. She wanted to win and it was still a victory if his corpse cooled at her feet. 

And Lelouch had denied her the proper win twice. 

Revenge, right. This was her revenge.

Art finished tying the rope around his hands and legs. The hood lay on the ground between them. 

"You lied. You said your mother loved French film and named you after a French director. She wouldn't have done that if they killed your grandparents." Wonderingly, Art added, "And she believed you."

Lelouch had forgotten that the story shared among friends who would never harm him, now rested in the hands of his captor. "The idea that I would lie to her while she held my life is incomprehensible to her. Revenge is something she understands."

Art picked up the hood and Lelouch watched his hand. He tossed it aside.

"Why did you join the army then?" Art finally asked.

"Why did you join the Crows?"

He blinked and leaned against the bars. "I don't know. I grew up with her and it was always us and Oliver. Mother tried to protect her when her parents vanished. She was the only one who understood although the town didn’t like her much either. And when Mother died, Br—the Count and Oliver welcomed me. The Crows felt like the next step."

Oliver who was now dead. 

Art sighed. “The Count… I know she can get angry, but we only want to change Britannia. So there can be proper justice. So people can get the help everyone deserves…. At least hear her out?”

"I’m terrible at being a proper Britannia, but I won’t betray everyone.” Lelouch replied. The silence weighed on him and he wanted Art to stay a little longer before being trapped in the tomb once again. “I thought joining the army was the only way to be free of my parents. I guess I was young and stupid… I could have found another way."

And the Lelouch wouldn’t have been here. But he wouldn’t have made real friends either. 

Art's eyes narrowed. "At fourteen you could've left and got yourself any job," he trailed off and his face paled. "You're not fifteen."

Now, his captor had a conscience? Lelouch laughed. "I'm hardly the only one. Nobody can touch you in the army, for better or worse. It's an escape from one prison to another, but at least one of your choosing."

Art turned around and closed the door to his cell. The buzzing electrical light stayed on.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally held out her hand as cold rain drizzled from the sky. It splashed against her skin and slowly wound down her wrist. The wind rustled through the leaves and Nunnally breathed in the first scents of the winter storm. The usual distant clammer of construction had ceased. It was peaceful.

Well.... except for Allie and Shirley chattering like best friends.

"Nunnally," Shirley cried, "Come on. You're going to catch a cold. Close the window, it's freezing in here."

Allie snickered. "Maybe you should wear some layers."

"My jacket doesn't fit in my locker! You've seen me try and cram it in there plenty of times."

"Why do you even need something fluffy? It's way too warm for anything useful."

Shirley laughed awkwardly. "Area Two is a lot colder you know."

Closing the window, Nunnally traced her brother's embroidery. She was being selfish, missing his presence already. He had duties to attend to and Nunnally couldn't begrudge him. Duty came first although she knew he wanted to spend time with her. Perhaps that was the cost of growing up and the expanding lists of freedoms.

"Lulu is rather cute," Shirley suddenly commented. "And he knows how to cook."

"Ew, you're talking about my brother!" Nunnally shouted and bumped into Shirley. 

"Maybe he can run a mile now," Allie teased. 

"Of course he can, he's in the military," Shirley immediately defended. "And he's such a gentleman too."

Nunnally buried her head in her hands. "Please stop."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to jump him. But I can see why all the other girls were talking about the mysterious student council president. Milly even got a request to open a fan club." Shirley's pen rolled to a stop.

"Please tell me she turned that down," Nunnally begged, horrified.

"No... It's Milly. She thinks it's hilarious and demanded to see the pictures they took." Shirley humphed. "Of course, it's rather stupid. They never even met."

Allie skeptically asked, "What do they find so interesting about him anyway? He was just here for three days. It's not like he could have done something interesting."

"Well... he turned down Sally's invitation to go on a date and she hasn't shut up about how heartbroken she is and describing his handsome looks in vivid detail. If you listen to Liz, he was a dashing hero when he helped her pick up his books. And Belle swears he was brooding in the library and walking in strange patterns. She's telling everyone he must be a vampire... or a werewolf, fighting off the forces of evil."

Nunnally groaned. "He was just checking the security because he was bored! I had to follow him and listen to him pace and mutter because he was testing the security cameras and mics."

Allie coughed. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say this school is bugged. I like having the illusion of privacy."

"Why wouldn't the school be bugged?" Nunally asked.

"Wait, the school is bugged?" Shirley asked. "But why?"

"Security?" Nunnally shook her head. "It's Lord Ashford's property and only an idiot wouldn't make sure nothing illegal is happening."

"But you can't just bug a place and tell no one about it," Shirley protested.

Allie set down her books. "Well, he's a noble. The rules don't apply to them."

"I thought it was obvious." Crossing her arms, Nunnally leaned back. "Like Lelouch bugged the house we were renting."

"Why would you bug your own house?" Allie asked, horrified.

Because if you didn't, your enemies would do it for you. Bugging your own house first meant you had a chance of catching them in the act. And then, of course: "Obviously, so if someone threatens you or kidnaps you, your allies can look through your records to find the perpetrator. Or you can hand over the records to prove your innocence although I guess lots of people would alter them."

Her two friends spluttered incoherently.

"There's nothing obvious about that," Allie cried. "Who plans on getting kidnapped?"

Nunnally tapped her chin. "Come to think of it, Lelouch and I used to play games where we had to break out of boxes. It was a lot of fun. And our mother would play with us hide and seek and teach us how to be super quiet. If we got outside, then we won."

"Um, Nunnally?" Allie asked hesitantly, "How did you play hide and seek?"

Nunnally shrugged. "Mother would shout, 'hide and seek!' And then we had to run and hide and sneak out of the house. It was super unfair when she started the game from the next room over. But we got cookies for every fifteen minutes."

Shirley coughed and the table rattled. "Fifteen minutes! How long did you play?"

"The entire day... We once hid successfully for three hours. We got cake that time. Why? How do you play?"

A long poignant silence followed and Nunnally fidgeted in her seat. She had heard the younger kids play the game and Suzaku had recognized the game although he had a different name for it. Surely, it wasn't that unusual?

"Normally, someone counts," Allie finally replied, "and then everyone hides. When they're done counting, they find everyone. If it takes longer than fifteen minutes, people usually start a new game."

"So they just stand there... and count?" Nunnally clarified, absolutely confused. Of course it was easy to hide if the person wasn't doing anything. 

"Yes. Down from thirty or something." Allie sighed. "Sometimes, you and Lelouch are too weird."

Nunnally frowned. "I don't get it. That's super easy."

Allie groaned. "Normal families don't make games to train you in kidnapping. Games are supposed to be fun. That's it."

Oops? Nunnally shrugged. "Well, it was fun. How did your families teach you to defend yourself?"

A thud and the table shook.

"Allie, Shirley?"

Shirley laughed nervously. "Nunnally, nobody is going to hurt a kid. What's the point?"

To put pressure on the family and force them to obey their whims... Oh. Nunnally groaned. Most families wouldn't have enemies seeking that kind of leverage. She felt like an idiot.

The door banged open and someone panted in the doorway. 

Milly frantically said, "Nunnally, there's someone on the phone for you. It's about Lelouch."

Had something happened? “Someone” implied Milly didn't know who they were instead of her mother or father. Nunnally swallowed and staggered to her feet and allowed Milly to grab her hand. 

Her heart pounded as she entered the Upper Student Council Room with the only phone. She could hear the phone crackling and she picked up the receiver.

"Shit, Roy, I need more coins."

"Hello?" Nunnally asked.

"You're Lelouch's sister?"

"Yes. What happened to my brother?" Nunnally shouted and she could imagine the worst. He was fighting in a war and of course there was the risk of death. She couldn't afford to lose him. He was her brother. 

Footsteps collected in the doorway and Nunnally knew her friends were standing there, silently waiting.

"We're going to find him," the boy replied. 

Nunnally almost dropped the phone out of shock. Dead?

No… They said “find.” Her brother couldn’t be dead. 

"Lelouch told me to call you if something ever happened and I thought you deserved to know. But we're going to find him."

"What happened?" Nunnally ordered because finding him meant his body was missing.

"I told Henry I was coming to the bar, but was running late. I only got there at the end and—"

A deeper male voice interrupted, "You're wasting time, Alex. Lelouch has been kidnapped."

He was alive.

But kidnapped? That was—

Had someone discovered the truth? Nunnally's hands clenched. He could be anywhere, suffering because of who their family was. It wasn't fair and no amount of childhood games could prepare her for the crushing reality. He was alive, for now, but somehow it felt worse than death.

"Tell me everything," she ordered.

Alex sighed and she could hear shouts in the background. "An agent of the Count drugged them and then took Lelouch. I'm sorry. He ordered me to save the others."

"You shouldn't have listened," she hissed and sank to the ground. Of course, Lelouch would ignore his safety to save others. 

Alex remained silent as shouts echoed in the background.

"What's happening there?"

"Well..." Alex fell silent and glass shattered in the background.

The older voice sighed. "The locals are rioting because of the Count. Command is claiming Lelouch deserted and there's a standing order to capture him and execute him if he resists. Half the division thinks he did desert and got arrested for trying to desert as well, while the other half is refusing to pick up their weapons. And Henry, of all people, deserted last night."

"Oh..."

"Lelouch is strong. We'll find him and clear up this mess."

Nunnally chuckled weakly and stifled a sob. Of course her brother was strong. He had lied to her mother's face to protect Suzaku, but if her father believed he deserted... She doubted he would listen. They had to find her brother and fast.

"What exactly did my brother last say to you?"

"'The Count wants me. They sent...' and then he got cut off," Alex replied. "He wasn't using any signals and Roy and Frederick don't remember anything useful. We're trying to figure out the sedative, but without knowing who the Count is..."

They... Lelouch has said. They. Her brother would have chosen his words carefully. Did it refer to the Crows? What was he trying to say? Or: "Does Lelouch use 'they' to refer to the Count, normally?"

"No... Wait, he used it earlier that day. I'm sorry, but I've got to go!"

Distantly, "Alex, wait!"

Only the muffled sounds of chaos remained and Nunnally slowly hung up. She whispered, "Lelouch is missing."

Missing... not kidnapped. It implied that he might just wander back as if he had gotten lost on a stroll. Missing, not kidnapped, where he was in danger and at the mercy of others. Lelouch was missing.

Warm arms wrapped around her and Allie said, "I'm so sorry. He's going to be fine, just you wait and see."

Milly, knowing the truth, asked, "Do your parents know?"

If they had, then Nunnally wouldn't have heard it from Lelouch's friends in the army. She shook her hands.

Milly's voice trembled. "You have to tell them... or I'll tell grandfather."

Hugging her tighter, Allie snorted. "Nunnally doesn't have to do anything. Besides, her parents hardly care. Her mother only visited once."

Her parents cared but in all the wrong ways. They would be furious and Nunnally shivered at the thought of what they would do. Weakness was forbidden. Would they blame Lelouch for his kidnapping? Or would they instead hold all his friends accountable like her mother blamed Suzaku? And maybe... they deserved to suffer for losing her brother.

That was an irrational thought. Lelouch wanted to protect them and sacrificed his safety for theirs. Nunnally had to forgive them... only if they brought her brother back.

"Nunnally." Milly's hand settled on her shoulder. "I—I can't hide this."

No, Milly couldn't. If her father learned Milly knew... and said nothing, he could charge her with treason.

"Fine," Nunnally said and pulled back from her friends. "But I want to talk to them..."

"Grandfather has your mother's current number. Come on."

Nunnally let herself be led away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts:
> 
> -Mount Fuji is more basaltic than most of Japan’s volcanoes which have more andesite. Basalt is actually slightly softer than andesite meaning, as a non-miner, it’s probably easier to mine.
> 
> -I highly doubt that sakuradite is only within Mount Fuji. It can probably be found elsewhere in Japan and judging from tectonics, the entire area around the Sea of Japan. The Sea of Japan has some really unique tectonic activity with numerous micro plates. There are oceanic plates which were completely subducted and most of Japan, geologically speaking, is really young. Which makes me wonder… How much sakuradite does the Chinese Federation have on their coast?
> 
> -Noble and royals are all paranoid enough to bug their house. And some wealthy commoners as well. The more money you have, the better your security is.
> 
> Author’s Note:
> 
> How is the tone working for everyone?   
I completely drained my emotional battery with this and the next few chapters. Some iteration of this plotline happened in all my brainstorming sessions because reasons. I joke about torturing my characters all the time, but I don't actually enjoy doing it. So… I hope that it isn’t too dark. But not too light either because this is supposed to suck for Lelouch.   
And what’s everyone's opinion about Art?  
  
Note: Ch. 1 has been edited. Nothing plot relevant changed.


	32. Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_In the early 21st century, Britannia reclaimed its title as a world power with the ascension of Charles zi Britannia, the 98th Emperor, and finally bringing an end to the Emblem of Blood. The almost century long civil war crippled Britannia's infrastructure and legal system. Nobles and criminal syndicates became synonymous and a complex culture of honor evolved to settle disputes in the absence of a strong central authority._

_By the time Emperor Charles zi Britannia took control, the concept of "might is right" had infected every aspect of Britannian culture. Britannian history paints a mostly peaceful transition of power, but accounts from the E.U. and the Chinese hint at a more tumultuous time period._

_Nobles—used to freedom and only paying lip service to whichever self-declared Emperor vied for the throne at the time—actively hindered the Emperor's mandates when they ran counter to their interests. In the early years, they publicly rebelled and called for the Emperor's head. Others, including some of his wives, plotted his assassination._

_Faced with a newly acquired Empire falling to pieces, Emperor Charles embraced "might is right" as his unifying doctrine and created the Office of Secret Intelligence (OSI). Vocal dissenters vanished in the middle of the night, only for their mutilated bodies to reappear weeks later. Fear became the weapon of choice to keep the population in line._

_Later, the OSI became less overt in its actions and transitioned to an intelligence agency to combat rampant corruption through Britannia. Unfortunately, for years, the OSI had relied on torture to instill fear or collect false confessions and those same practices continued to acquire "actionable intelligence."..._

—_The Folly of "Might is Right"_

* * *

**A Cell**

The steady drip of water and the Count's hospitality marked the nebulous and monotonous passage of time. Lelouch yearned for those moments of release where he could stretch his limbs and see beyond the confines of his cell. But he dreaded the hesitant sound of Art's footsteps echoing off the flagstones, which meant Lelouch had to play to the mercurial moods of the Count.

She swung between deadly violence and philosophical debates with frightening ease. In her fleeting moments of cheerfulness, she peppered him with philosophical questions or asked about his past. She never asked for information, too assured that he knew nothing of importance.

When he answered incorrectly, she lashed out. Or more often, for no discernable reason. Sometimes she never talked, just staring at him with judgemental eyes that found him lacking and dolled out an appropriate punishment, always so careful not to draw blood.

Blood was for when the crazed look entered her eyes. The hunger for his death. Blood meant he pushed too far and it was time to plead so he could live a little longer.

So he accepted the bruises, the burning muscles when she ordered Art to string him up in his cell, and the chattering teeth from the occasional bucket of freezing water when she found his smell too atrocious.

Survive to escape, his mother had once said.

And every time, when he bowed his head so he could survive another day (or week... or month... after all what was time without the passage of the sun?), the Count rewarded him with a scone and a cup of bitter tea.

The hunger and thirst never ceased.

After a session, he would return to his cell. If the Count wasn't watching, Art left on the lights, a small mercy. Lelouch had long ago memorized every nook and cranny of the mortar walls. The patterns of rust on the bars. The discoloration of the stones.

He preferred the light even when objects grew or shrunk.

Anything but the darkness with only his heart rate, breathing, and the damn water for company.

When his eyes fluttered closed, the pains in his wrists turned into York's vice grip who would smile and ask if he was so weak as to fall prey to the Count. But even _he _was better than Edgar grabbing his wrist and asking him why Lelouch hadn't been more careful. Why did he have to die?

Sometimes he felt like not a moment passed until he was dragged before the Count once more, but other times, like now, time crawled by.

Surely, his mother knew he was gone by now. It had been so long.

Were his friends alive?

The dark room pulsed around him and he could feel it's shadowy arms wrapping around him, attempting to smother him. His heart beat erratically and Lelouch forced himself to take slow careful breaths.

Water splashed in dissonance with his heart beat. Constant and never ending, yet never aligned. He would prefer absolute silence over the grating noise.

But water… How he yearned for the tantalizing freshness to trail down his sandpaper tongue. To wash away the slow developing crud in his mouth. To ease his headache and shatter Morpheus's grip.

He needed to be awake.

Thinking.

Planning an escape.

At least with his last escape attempt—and he had taken such joy in grabbing the fork (or had it been a knife? Knives were stabby and that made more sense) to stab the Count. She had been absolutely furious and for a moment Lelouch thought he had gone too far and she would finally wring his neck, before she dragged him back and shut the tomb. He hadn't been disturbed since... but at least the buzzing light was silent.

The darkness smiled at him and Lelouch fruitlessly pulled on his bonds again despite knowing the rope would cut into his wrists. It didn't hurt anymore beyond the distant knowledge that it should.

Edgar would be most upset. "Lelouch," he would say, "you're causing your wrists to swell with the constant tugging."

"I have to escape," Lelouch whispered back and winced as his voice echoed back in the silence.

"Not at the loss of your hands," Edgar would reply. "Your elbows and wrists are stressed and fluid is collecting which is pressing on your nerves. That's why you can't feel the pain, but if you continue, you risk permanently damaging the nerves."

Better his hands than death. The Count would tire in her quest to reclaim the stolen victories through domination and instead sacrifice his life. Maybe, he could break his thumb and escape his constraints.

"And what will you do then, Lelouch?"

An old fashioned lock sealed him inside as if the coarse rope wasn't enough. Without any tools, Lelouch had no chance to pick or break the lock. If only he hadn't lost his shoes. He had so many regrets.

"Like letting me die?"

Yes.

"Let's forget the lock. You're in no condition to escape. You can barely climb the stairs when the Count requests your presence."

Lelouch rolled his eyes. Edgar wasn't that cynical.

"Well, you did kill me."

"Leave me alone," Lelouch whispered and his voice vibrated through the tomb. "You're not real."

Edgar's voice vanished and Lelouch wanted to reach out and beg it to stay once more. It didn't return and Lelouch was left alone with the sound of water battling the thump of his heart.

Drips passed.

Lelouch closed his eyes.

The door squeaked and Lelouch turned his head away from the blinding light. The shadow moved closer and released his bonds. A bottle of water waited before his eyes in a hazy rainbow of color.

The cap fumbled in his hands and bounced across the floor before finally rolling to a stop. It teetered on its side and fell over with a rattle.

Escape.

Joints groaned and creaked and popped as they fought through thick molasses. Lelouch's hands trembled as they reached forward and curled around the cool bottle. It wobbled as it rose and water splashed over the edge onto the hands before spilling into his mouth.

The bottle was empty.

He felt nauseous.

Had he been drugged again?

The water sloshed in his stomach.

A small slice of bread with butter was quickly devoured.

"The Count wants me again?" he asked.

"No, she's busy with the Crows," Art said.

Lelouch clung to the lifeline of information. Were the Crows doing well? Were they suffering? Had his mother arrived and now the Count was busy on the front lines? Were his friends alright?

Art stood up and grabbed some rope from besides the cage and began to approach, his face unreadable.

"Please?" What was Lelouch pleading for?

Art sat down. "You broke her nose."

Lelouch thought that had been a dream, a wonderful fantasy. "I won't do anything right now."

The lips quirked. "Right now? You still think you can escape?"

"If I don't, she'll win," Lelouch said. She wanted to break him and prove that his victories over her were meaningless. Funny, how in those moments, Lelouch's only thought was to save lives.

"Normally, she doesn't draw it out like this. She's efficient and they beg... then she kills them. It's like she can't decide whether to kill you or not," Art said.

"I'm flattered. So... don't beg."

"People don't die with dignity." Art sighed. "The first man attacked Oliver. He was a noble... the proud sort. Said he was sorry and begged her to stop.. I couldn't watch... even though he deserved it."

Lelouch laughed. The air burned his still painfully dry throat. "Deserved. You say that, but you left. You can't believe that."

"And where else would he receive justice?" Art snarled.

Lelouch blinked lazily. A challenge. A game. An opportunity… To what, he didn't know, but it felt important.

"Justice: righteousness and equity. Or the application of the law. The law and system is clear. So he did receive justice, only there is none for nobles," he said.

"I fight because the law is unjust."

Lelouch ignored the reply and smiled. "Of course, we can say justice is righteous and then apply a set of arbitrary moral rules, but it must then also be equal and so once again, the noble did not receive justice... or have you killed every noble who preyed on others? Because... you've missed quite a few then."

And maybe he shouldn't goad his captor. But that required energy which he didn't have.

"Things will change."

Lelouch bent down and massaged his throbbing ankles. "No, they won't. The Count's actions aren't impartial. Even if she wins, which she won't, not all people will be equal under her law and so the system won't change."

Art frowned. "We treat nobles and commoners equally. Nobility will have the rights of all commoners and the commoners the rights of a noble."

"You're forgetting someone." Lelouch chuckled and closed his eyes, leaning against the cool stone wall.

"Who?"

"The Numbers."

"They're stubborn idiots. They don't bring anything of value."

Lelouch sneered. Time and time again the same rhetoric without an ounce of critical thinking. "Just like how a blind person can never be useful? Or a paraplegic? What about someone who lost an arm? Or maybe they're deaf... or mute? What about a child? An infant? They can't do anything and you have no idea who they will grow in. When equality is based on arbitrary value... there's no equality and thus no justice."

Art stood up and turned around. "You... hate Britannia. But you still fight for them. You're still trying to escape even though it would be easier to give up."

"The Count doesn't offer the solution to my problems... and even then, I will not betray my friends and my sister."

Art sat back down and leaned against the bars. "What would you do then? How would you fix things? You say the Count won't help, but then what will?" Quietly, as if he didn't intend Lelouch to hear, Art asked, "When will there finally be a world that Oliver would be happy in?"

"If everyone thought I died..." Lelouch swallowed and imagined a world where he and Nunnally stayed in Japan throughout the invasion. "I would wear a mask and become an immortal symbol which could be replaced by anyone willing to take up the mask. I would protect those who cannot fight no matter who their enemies are."

But to actually win... "First, I would destabilize Britannia and disrupt the belief that they were untouchable in their power. The viceroy would be a good target, but only if they committed a reprehensible crime. There's no room for personal beliefs and grudges... a symbol only sees the harsh truth and nothing more."

Art's gaze bore into Lelouch. "What is stopping you?"

"Because what right do I have to impose my will? Blood will run in the streets and families will be torn apart. They may love their symbol of justice, but it only takes one mistimed action... and the illusion will fracture. In a way, the Count is right. Hate is much easier to direct. By removing the scapegoats, people will flinch away from the truth and seek someone else to hate and blame their faults on. The symbol of justice is just one step away."

"Action is better than inaction. At least I tried, while you prematurely declare defeat."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Lelouch whispered. "My parents would kill me before I even stepped a toe over the line."

Treason was unacceptable.

"Then what would you do if you were out there?"

Lelouch looked up at the worn stones. "Stop Odysseus from abdicating. Expand the Ashford Academy model throughout the country. Open up the officer ranks to commoners. Abolish the Number system."

Art snorted.

"I'll figure it out," Lelouch grumbled. Maybe he had to stop wishing things and accept his role as the Emperor's wayward pawn. What was his pride worth if he could actually bring about change? Of course there was the risk that Lelouch would become what he hated. "I have time. I'm not even fourteen."

Art left and Lelouch watched him retreat with a wary hope. Had Art forgotten? The ropes remained off.

* * *

**Location Classified, Area 13**

Marianne frowned at the urgent communication request from Reuben. Busy fighting on the front lines, she hadn't slept for the past thirty-six hours. Her head thrummed, either from the prolonged knightmare use or the modafinil keeping her awake .

Or maybe she just needed sleep.

Scrolling through the multiple missed calls, she hoped this wasn't another of Reuben's wellness checks. She knew she should slow down. Take a break.

But Marianne had long acknowledged that she needed to be busy. Even Reuben's gentle and concerned nagging would not change the fact. When he chose her as his test pilot all those years ago, he had condemned her to this fate: constantly fighting.

Rolling her eyes, she clicked on the voicemail. She wasn't a child anymore, needing him to watch over her.

"Nunnally needs—" Marianne returned the call without hesitation.

What had happened to her darling angel?

"Marianne? Are you alright? You weren't replying and Nunnally was beside herself thinking something happened to you," Reuben said.

"What's going on?" she barked. "Is Nunnally alright?'

"Yes, of course. She wouldn't tell me what was going on. Insisted it was for your ears only although she seems rather worried and Milly was insisting that I should contact the Emperor himself. I don't know what could bring her into such a state. Security didn't catch anything."

"Is she there? I have time now." Marianne rolled her wheelchair up the ramp of the base and ignored the looks from passing offers as she clamped the phone between her shoulder and chin.

"Give me a moment, she's sleeping in Milly's room." The seconds passed in agony and she heard a distant knock. "Nunnally? Your mother is on the line."

More movement and rustling, while Marianne rolled into her office and cleared out her secretary with a glare. Her fingers tapped on the table impatiently while supply forms covered her desk.

"Mom?" Nunnally, her beautiful and sweet angel, asked hesitantly.

"Yes dear? Reuben said you needed to talk. Has something happened? I can finish up in a day or two and fly over."

A soft sob.

"Nunnally? What's wrong?" Who dared to make her daughter cry?

"Le—Lel—Lulu is missing!"

The world froze.

Her hands tightened around the phone. Lelouch? Lelouch was missing? And why hadn't she been informed earlier?

"Nunnally, it's going to be alright. Tell me everything."

Her daughter's voice trembled. "They said the Count took him."

Blood pounded in her ears.

Kidnapped.

A nightmare that had kept her up at night when Charles flaunted all customs to marry her and then again when she discovered for one terrifying moment that she was pregnant and would bring a life in the world. A life who couldn't protect themselves.

Had Lelouch's identity been revealed? Marianne should have found a way to pull her son out sooner. A Number division was no place for him and now a terrorist had his hands on her innocent son.

Quietly, she asked, "Who said that?"

Nunnally quieted. "Mother... You can't do anything rash."

Rash? Her son was missing.

"Your brother is missing. I'm going to get him back."

"You can't—" Nunnally groaned. "If you hurt his friends, Lelouch will never forgive you."

Marianne scowled. She should never had let them go to Japan. They didn't understand. Everything was for their safety, yet they compromised that effort by sharing their hearts so easily. "I will punish all the guilty parties involved."

"Then I won't help you."

"Your brother is missing! And this is the first time I hear about it. How do you know what happened when my own agent hasn't informed me?"

"Did you perhaps threaten to kill them if something happened to him? Why would they tell you if it means their death?"

That... was a good point.

Marianne massaged her temples and clicked on the remote to dim the light. "Fine. I will hold off on punishment until I hear what Lelouch has to say. What happened?"

Hesitantly, her daughter replied. "His friends called me to tell me that he didn't desert... but was kidnapped."

Royal children died young. Kidnapped. The nightmare, which once kept her up at night, was now a reality.

"Anything else?"

Nunnally sighed. "No. They were feeling terribly guilty,"—as they should—"but things sounded really chaotic. They didn't indicate that they knew Lelouch was a prince... so the Count may have kidnapped him for unrelated reasons."

There was no other possible explanation.

"Thank you. I'll take care of things... Lelouch will be fine. Goodnight dear."

"Night," she said and hung up.

Marianne stared at the phone and felt the expanse between them. Was the distance insurmountable? Banishing the thought, Marianne shook her head and pulled up Charles's number. Her son was in trouble and she would always protect her children to the best of her abilities.

She wasn't perfect... She might very well fail. But she would try.

* * *

**Melbourne Villa, Halifax, Area 2**

Music danced through the air as Brigit opened her childhood music box. It was one of the few items she had saved from Oliver's house before it went up in flames. Now, it rested on her mantle with incriminating evidence tucked out of sight as it played sweet melodies.

She should probably move it, but having it so close made goosebumps runs down her skin. It was a risk. Normally, she only took calculated risks and there was no benefit in keeping it near. But with the only person who denied her victory—outside of the insufferable Empress Marianne—in her basement, she could afford to take a risk. There was hardly anyone who could stand in her way.

She withdrew the pictures from the music box and flipped through them, finding the one of her new little bird.

Disoriented and skin beginning to purple, but with a spark of fire in his eyes, he looked absolutely radiant. The fire was still in his eyes despite every session and his moaned cries of pain. She would quench it and win.

Sometimes she felt the urge to cut the fragile life short. To see his red blood run.

Every moment he lived was a chance that he would fight back and kill her in revenge. It made the game more exciting. Had it only been one defeat she would have considered it chance and succumbed to the urge to destroy.

But he won twice and no one had ever done that.

So she waited like an unrelenting glacier carving through his resistance. He was a fine specimen, someone who she could finally see as an almost equal. After all, if her noble benefactor was correct, she had captured an even more alluring prize.

His support, as always, was most welcome.

Art knocked on the door and bowed as he entered. "Brigit. You called?"

"Yes. I think our little friend might have become lonely in my absence. Bring him."

Art hesitated in the doorway. "He's a child."

"Oliver is dead because of Britannia."

He glanced at the music box and pressed his lips together. "I know and I hate them. Oliver was innocent... but Lelouch didn't pull the trigger."

"And how would you know if our friend did?" She asked, walking towards him. "Art, trust me. He is very much a valuable asset and guilty. He hasn't suffered like we have, so he doesn't understand. This helps him."

Art, ever so compliant since her brother's demise, nodded and left to do her bidding. At long last, his loyalty was hers alone. He would finally be the perfect asset, free from inhibitions. And she too could finally cease her lies.

Because Art would finally understand. How could he not when he had finally crossed his moral line and harmed a child? And she would be the only one there to accept him

With one last look at the photo, she slipped it inside the music box and silenced the wonderful thrums. She looked down at the crackling frame whose tendrils searched for food. Grabbing the teapot, she placed it on the stable and readjusted the plate of scones. Finally, she sat, straightened her flowing skirt, and poured a cup of tea.

Her caged bird stumbled into the room on weak knees and glared at her.

She wrinkled her nose. As always, he stunk, but he was stubborn and if he insisted on making his stay worse by refusing the clean white clothes she offered, who was she to deny him.

"Hello little prince," she said and gestured to the seat across from her. "If I had known I was entertaining royalty, I would have shown more decorum. Please, sit."

A subtle flinch ran through the duo and she dabbed her mouth to hide a smile. The bird wasn't singing his song of defiance today, he was afraid.

"He's not a prince," Art protested and stared at the sack of skin and bones with disbelief. "He's in the army!"

"Lelouch vi Britannia,"—she didn't know it was possible for him to pale even more—"the son of Marianne the Flash: the Emperor's executioner. I hear you are skilled at chess. Almost gave Prince Schneizel a run for his money. I would offer to play, but I always found the game atrocious. Sit."

He complied while Art forgot to close his mouth. The little prince glared as he sank into the chair.

"Tea?"

He shook his head while his eyes never left the teapot.

"Manners," Brigit chided.

"Piss off," he snarled.

She frowned. "You are rather vulgar for a Prince. Does your mother accept that type of language?"

His face hardened. "Get to the point. Nothing has changed because I'm royalty. You still hate me and the Emperor doesn't negotiate with terrorists."

Even if the Emperor did negotiate, she wasn't willing to part with her prize. "You lied." She tutted. "Your grandparents were never anywhere near the French and I don't like people who make a fool out of me."

He leaned back and she could see his muscles coiling to bolt; he wouldn't get far.

"Your mother caused me quite a bit of trouble last time. Nobody knows who I am. Nobody would suspect a noble. I think I should send her a message and you're going to help me."

That woman had cut through her forces like a bloody knife and left none alive. Her knightmare was a menace on the battlefield and Brigit, while skilled, did not want to face her directly. She had seen the recordings. The woman moved with a supernatural grace. But the Emperor liked her and with her son... Most people hesitated to hurt their offspring.

"The Emperor doesn't negotiate with terrorists, but your mother raced through my forces and I would bet that was after you were deployed. With my debut, every soldier was needed and the trainees were deployed... including you. Your mother surprised me by taking the time to race to Area Two and massacre the resources I had been collecting. I wondered what could have roused her attention to insignificant me... She wanted to protect you."

The little prince sat like a stone, completely unreadable.

"I think your mother will hesitate to kill her own son... even if he defected. Or I can go with the second option and send her little gifts so she drives herself mad with worry. How many fingers do you think it will take before she begs me to stop?"

He finally reacted. "My mother isn't in the habit of leaving her enemies alive."

Brigit smiled. "Nor am I. What do you choose: a finger or changing into the uniform I kindly supplied."

His eyes widened and she knew he understood. A uniform was a statement of loyalty. Something worn with pride and his allies, even his parents, would doubt him when they learned what he had done. The little prince would sing for her and through him she would crush Empress Marianne. With his aid, she would stand before her flock as they tore through Britannia and hauled the Emperor out of his gilded palace.

Fitting... Royalty would destroy royalty.

The little bird pursed his lips and his eyes flicked to his hands. Would he really choose a finger and force Brigit to strip away the illusion of choice she presented him? He glanced back at Art and she narrowed her eyes..

"Art fetch a sharp knife," she ordered, "and one of the finer envelopes."

He closed his eyes and she reached out to grab his right hand, massaging his ring finger.

"I'll change," he finally hissed and she could see the murder in his eyes. Good.

Pointing to the divider, she said, "You can change there."

He returned in the white uniform which hung from his shoulder and highlighted his ashen skin. Deliberately, he dropped the soiled Britannian uniform on the ground. The little bird may have lost his plumage of choice, but his spirit remained unbroken.

Grabbing the rags, she dumped them in the fireplace and watched the fire curl upwards, eating through the cloths and tarnishing the metal buttons. In the corner of her eyes, the prince grit his teeth.

Brigit grabbed the camera. "Smile, Your Highness."

He scowled.

"Now, now. None of that. I can still take a finger… And no tricks either."

His shoulders relaxed marginally and the frown smoothed out. No smile, but it was good enough for her purposes, even if she would need to do some drastic editing.

Considering him, she snapped a few bird was still too proud even with clipped wings.

"The dog tags?"

Scowling, he lifted the chain and dropped a single tag in her hands. "Lost the other one."

"Tea?" she offered again, pouring it into the teacup laced with a sedative. "I insist."

He took a sip and she smiled. He was learning.

The scalding tea flew into her face as if to spite her. Knowing him, it was.

She slowly dabbed the tea with her napkin and watched in amusement as his scared eyes tracked her every movement. Deliberately, she picked up the steaming teapot and walked to him. He froze, knowing what was coming.

The tea poured and a pitiful whimper escaped.

At least now he had some color to his skin.

Art, a half-step forward, froze as she glanced at him, his face smoothing over. He pointedly stared at the wall and Brigit wondered if she should order him to look at their caged bird.

Sitting back down, she sipped at her own tea. "You're a wasteful little prince, aren't you? You forced me to sacrifice a perfectly good blend, but what can I expect from someone raised in luxury."

Sticky and pink tea trailed down his face.

"I wonder, what's your worst memory?" she asked and frowned as Art stiffened. He wasn't supposed to be that attached. Oliver died and he had followed her orders with hesitation. Now, a Britannian prince rested in their cellar and Art was becoming... sympathetic.

Rolling his eyes, he replied, "One time my tea was five minutes late and had seeped too long. I've never witnessed anything more horrifying. Can you imagine having to _wait?_"

Brigit ignored his impudence. He would learn soon enough although he was far more stubborn than she had anticipated. From a life of luxury to a prisoner. That was quite a transition and opened possibilities she never had explored.

She stood up and walked past Art, stopping in the doorway. "I unfortunately have a war to run, but don't worry, you will see me soon enough."

"Brigit..." Art whispered.

Compassion. What a useless emotion.

"You're right. Art, make sure he doesn't injure himself. We aren't barbaric hosts."

Art would finally break the prince and his chains of weakness. He only had to understand and Brigit would be there, waiting for him.

He was hers.

Had always been since the day he became a social pariah by taking the blow meant for her brother as he lay on the ground, totally helpless. Restrained by a larger teen, she had watched in amazement. No one else had ever tried to help.

People were selfish. Even her brother, always hoarding Art's attention. But Art wasn't: too willing to lay down his life for a cause.

She only needed to give him a little shove. At her request, he would make the little bird sing. And then Art would be hers.

* * *

**Shinjuku, Area 11**

Suzaku's hands trembled. Lord Kansas, son of Margrave Shaft was dead. Killed by terrorists. Suzaku had been bringing necessary supplies... which had included guns. And now?

Now, the entire Hadano area was purged in retaliation. The Brit reporter on the radio was gleeful as he described the destruction and how the savage Elevens deserved it. That it was a lesson they had to learn. Blood would be repaid with blood, thousands full.

How many of his people had died in Hadano? How many children who poured over books now lay in the streets as Britannain forces trampled then? He had wanted to stop the death and destruction. Not pour oil on the flames.

"Suzaku," Tohdoh said as he turned off the radio, "you don't need to listen."

"I have to. If I hadn't drawn attention, then Kudo wouldn't have shot him and everyone would still be alive."

Tohdoh passed him a cup of tea. "And if the guards hadn't been looking for a target for their anger, then you would have passed through unhindered. You are not at fault."

"I'm supposed to protect them. They're my people. I failed."

"You're thirteen. Even in Britannia, you would be considered too young. This war…" Tohdoh catches his eyes. "It's not your responsibility."

Self-conscious, Suzaku observed the slow meandering swirls. His sensei sounded so sincere, but it was his responsibility. . "I killed my father."

"Please, don't say that too loud." Tohdoh set down his cup. "Your father was a good man. He was principled and always pushing himself forward. But he was always a proud man. And his plan... It was a prideful one without any subtlety. He had resources at his disposal which he could have used, but his principles forbade him. Instead... he was willing to let all of Japan die instead of surrendering. He would have been dead by the end of the week. Either by Britannian agents or by our own."

"You're saying I was right?"

"No," Tohdhoh answered. "I'm saying you weren't wrong. I was too relieved to find you alive to consider your wellbeing. To think about what you had seen. Your father's death was my failure. Maybe if I had said something…" He pursed his lips. "Or protested even earlier then all of this could have been avoided."

No. Why would his sensei blame himself? Suzaku had killed his father: an irredeemable sin.

Yet, he nodded in acceptance.

"Do you want to talk about Hadano?" Tohdoh gently asked and folded his hands in his lap. The decision was up to Suzaku.

"You have work," Suzaku muttered. Tohdoh shouldn't monopolize his time. He had an army to run and relief supplies to organize. A real son to look after. Suzaku wasn't worth the attention.

Tohdoh shifted closer and his hand softly settled on his shoulder. "It can wait for you."

"The guard called us out because we were speaking Japanese. And I bowed because they like that. And... I don't know what happened."

"Suzaku, Britannia has just as many bows as Japan. More, actually. I've been learning them for years and I still have trouble knowing which one is proper for every situation. Lelouch would have taught you the one he thought you needed."

"He taught me three. I used the one for nobles," Suzaku protested.

"Show me," Tohdoh said and Suzaku demonstrated. "That's the formal one for a high ranking noble used to respectfully greet others. As the son of the Prime Minister, you ranked similarly to an important noble. But it's not one that would be used by a commoner or even a minor noble."

"Britannia is stupid," Suzaku grumbled. "The lord asked me who taught me to bow. And then he wanted to use me against Lelouch. Why would he even care about Lelouch?"

Tohdoh took a sip of the tea. "His mother, more likely. Marianne continues to collect more power despite her disability. She had many enemies. Enemies that would happily kill her son in revenge or to weaken her. She's never been defeated on the battlefield and intelligence says the Emperor allows her a great amount of leeway. Her only weakness is her children."

"Lelouch never did anything."

"And life isn't fair. He understood the danger he was in for as long as I've known him. And I know he was your friend—"

"—is my friend—"

"—but he is now your enemy. He hasn't done anything yet to our knowledge and your cousin wasn't able to weasel anything out of him—"

Not caring how rude he was, Suzaku interrupted, "When did Kaguya meet him?

"At Prince Odysseus's birthday. It was the first even he has apparently attended in years. But he is a threat. He is intelligent and manipulative. The Emperor will use him and, one day, you will be in his way."

"He's good," Suzaku protested. "He's not going to hurt me."

Tohdoh leaned forward, looking devastatingly serious. "I hope your childhood friendship will mean something, but it has been years. Both of you will have changed. And if it's between you and his sister, he would kill you without hesitation. I like him... I really do. He was a wonderful student, no matter how much he detested exercise, but you need to be prepared for him being your enemy."

Swallowing, Suzaku looked away. "He saved my life. He lied to protect me. I can't fight him."

"Lelouch is involved with business right now, whatever that means. As long as he stays out of military affairs, we will not target him. I have no intention of drawing his mother's ire. She's a menace. Perhaps this conversation is for naught as Prince Schneizel has offered to take him under his wing. We will know once his birthday passes in a few days what the Emperor plans for him. Still, he will be pushing the Emperor's plans and that makes him our enemy."

No. They had laughed and schemed together. He couldn't spit on that memory. There was another way.

Tohdoh smiled sadly. "You need to decide what you value more. Japan or a friendship that may no longer exist."

Duty demanded that he place Japan first, regardless of the costs. Bowing his head, he whispered, "Japan."

Somehow, the answer seemed to sadden Tohdoh.

"You're... You're Ko's older brother, Suzaku. Make no mistake. I hate balancing my desire to protect my family and fighting for Japan. I don't want any of you getting hurt, but it's a risk I must take." His face twisted. "Sacrifices must be made."

"Of course..." Suzaku closed his eyes and ignored the rush of guilty warmth.

Tohdoh reached out and grabbed his hand. "I want you to survive. So if everything goes to hell... I want you to use your relationship with Lelouch and the friendship you had."

"You just said he was my enemy."

"Yes, but if the Emperor discovers us and drags us to the execution block, then that old friendship can save your life. Anything is possible if you keep on living. Even if you become a political tool of the Emperor himself."

"But..."

"Nagisa and I are already looking for a family that could foster Ko. We have options although we have to weigh the risk. You're older... and well known, which makes it harder. If it was up to me, you would disappear and live in the countryside until you're eighteen. Unfortunately, that's infeasible. This is the second best option."

Suzaku grimaced. The tea was cold. "I want to do my part. I want to fix everything."

"No one can fix everything," Tohdhoh said firmly. "You may continue going on supply missions, but I don't want you transporting weapons again. It's too big of a risk."

"Father would have disapproved as well," Suzaku whispered, but unlike his father, Tohdoh spoke out of concern for his well being. "Father didn't believe in violence. Or killing. He would say to follow the law even if it wasn't right. That the way to bring about change was from within. Work the system... Without the rule of law, only anarchy would follow."

Tohdoh shook his head. "Suzaku, you don't need to atone. He made his decision and you were just a child. Our revolution will be bloody, but we're doing so much good. It's illegal, but food, medicine, and books help our people. We will not win with military might alone and maybe Japan will never be free, but Japan is its people, so we must preserve our way of life."

Japan was its people.

Even if Lelouch, who loved Japan, governed Area Eleven… his people wouldn't be saved. Britannia refused to acknowledge their culture. Suzaku himself—if he ever became the Knight of One—would not be able help as the Viceroy.

Governance over a piece of land meant nothing

His father had asked what right the average citizen had to enforce their will onto others. The right belonged exclusively to the government because anything else would lead to destruction.

"Father was wrong," Suzaku said in wonder. "We are helping others... each person trying to change the world. But we're not fighting each other like wild dogs over the last scrap of meat. People... sacrifice themselves for others."

"Yes. He always did have a cynical take on the human condition. Thought everything had to apply universally or else society would crumble."

Japan was its people. Not the land, but the culture, history, and values that tied them together. To be Japanese meant suffering together and rebuilding Japan into a brighter country. To help the sun rise again.

Suzaku frowned. "The Honorary Britannian system takes away what makes us Japanese. It isolates them and in a generation or two... they wouldn't know how to return to Japan even if they wanted to."

Tohdoh nodded. "It's a well designed trap that takes away everything which makes our identity. Without your identity, you accept what it means to be a Number and Britannia wins. Do not begrudge those who accept the offer. For many it is the only path to survival. And for those who recognize the danger, they make convenient spies."

"I won't," Suzaku promised.

Frowning as he checked his watch, Tohdoh said, "I need to go. Please... talk to me if you need anything. And maybe, later, we can play another game of shogi?"

"You always win," Suzaku grumbled.

"And it took you months to perfect your spin-kick. You're improving."

Suzaku dipped his head and watched Tohdoh hurry out and the familiar sounds of boots falling in line behind him. The JLF demanded all of his attention, but he always tried to make time. Often, Suzaku felt guilty for monopolizing his father's...

No.

Genbu Kururugi was his father. He had raised him. Taught him everything he knew... Never made the time for him.

Tohdoh was only Ko's father.

And would Tohdoh even accept him as a son? Suzaku had killed his father.

If only he could talk to his father one more time. Apologize for everything... but not question the ideals the man had instilled in him.

In the corner of the room, Ko began to cry as he woke up from his nap and Suzaku rushed over to see the brown eyes stare at him curiously.

"Hungry?" he asked with a small smile.

Ko gurgled. "Oni up! Oni up! Oni up!"

Laughing, Suzaku picked him up. His little brother was adorable. "It's Suzaku, Ko. Su-za-ku."

"Oni" Ko cried again, looking inordinately pleased. "Oni sad. Oni play trains."

Suzaku set his younger brother down on the ground who gave him a hug and then waddled to the corner to grab the wooden blocks that functioned as trains. Was this what Lelouch had felt watching Nunnally grow up? The overwhelming love and desire to protect?

Ko drew the world in and even when Suzaku felt alone, his little hands would curl around his finger to pull him elsewhere in the small apartment.

Ko… Despite the misery around him, was a blinding sun.

Whenever Suzaku stared at his face and the small tiny white teeth revealed with every smile, he felt so guilty for the dark thoughts that encroached on his mind. The thought of atoning for his crime never passed his mind. Ko needed him and so Suzaku would survive.

Chiba pearly laughter echoed off the bare walls when she caught sight of them and Ko's attempt to vigorously inspect his mouth. "I see you're having fun, Suzaku. Come on, Ko. Help Mother with dinner?"

"Yes!" Ko cried eagerly. "I'm Mommy's best helper."

"Yes, you are. Can you pick that bag up for me? It's sooo heavy."

Ko grunted but pulled up the bag and the single meager loaf of bread. "I'm strong."

"Suzaku, go wash up." Chiba ordered.

"Yes, mo—Chiba-san," he called back and fled outside to the communal bathroom. His heart pounded.

First with Tohdhoh. Now with Chiba.

He had parents. Good parents.

Dead parents...

They had cared for him, provided for him. He couldn't dishonor them by replacing them. It was just...

They were a family now. Ko was his brother in every way that mattered. But... was it a betrayal?

The vial of refrain he could never dispose of weighed heavily in his jacket. He was already questioning his father's ideals. His father who had been the Prime Minister and the ultimate authority on all matters. What right did Suzaku have to doubt him?

But Tohdoh did. He understood the actions Suzaku felt compelled to take despite knowing his father would disapprove.

His father would have died before submitting to Britannia... because otherwise he would bow his head and work as Britannia ordered. He would have futilely sought to change the system from within.

Suzaku couldn't abandon his father and all his ideals. It was wrong. He was replacing his parents. He had to be a good son. He had to do his duty.

But was his duty to his family? His country? Or the new home he carved out?

If only he could ask his father... see him again. Apologize. Beg for forgiveness. Have his blessing to move on.

And he could. The vial of Refrain was in his hands.

Suzaku didn't deserve to be happy, but Ko did. Ko deserved to grow up Japanese.

To move forward was to betray his past. To betray his father. To betray Lelouch...

To move forward was to accept Ko as his brother. Tohdoh and Chiba as his parents.

He couldn't...

He sank to the ground and clutched the vial.

Why did he cling to the past? Why did he yearn to betray it? Why did he think himself worthy of a new family?

A good son was loyal to his father. He just had to remember.

Suzaku leaned back, rested the syringe against his skin, and plunged the trigger.

* * *

**A Cell**

"You're lying... you're not a prince."

Lelouch leaned back against the wall and stared at Art as he opened a wooden box with shaking hands. Funny, how even when knowing the truth, he didn't believe it. Royalty was spoiled. Inconsiderate. Cruel. The Count believed it. She didn't even bother to consider that Lelouch might not be like the rest of his family.

Spoiled. Lelouch wanted to cry or laugh.

Art knew a smidgen of the truth. He had spied on his friends and heard the stories. He saw Lelouch as a soldier and couldn't reconcile it with the truth.

Lelouch smirked tiredly. "I wish I was lying. The Emperor's Executioner is my mother."

Art stared into the box. "Your mother collects French films... and the Emperor hides them?"

"He probably has someone else do it. Used to drive her absolutely mad and she would bribe us with sweets to find the films." Lelouch chuckled. "Sometimes, we found them in the oddest places months later. Mother redesigned the garden once and found a few in the soil. Everyone could hear her screaming at him over the phone."

Lelouch closed his eyes and tried to ignore the knots in his stomach as he considered what was coming next.

At least Nunnally wouldn't have to learn he lost a finger. She would have been terrified. Knowing he was alive would assuage her worries.

"What's the Emperor like?"

Imposing. Domineering. Inescapable. Everywhere one went, his shadow shackled their feet. His power was absolute and wielded without care.

"Cruel," Lelouch whispered. "Everyone is a pawn: a tool to be used. We were living in Japan, but the Emperor still ordered the invasion to maintain the element of surprise. He burned cities down to the ground and ash rained from the sky. You could smell the dead long before you saw them. They towered over you while the stupid flies buzzed." He paused and blinked away a few tears. "All the people we knew and cared for us, died."

"That's your worst memory, isn't it? Not Br—the Count."

"No." Lelouch peeled open his eyes and glanced at the buzzing, pulsing light. "I have no idea. I remember lying to my mother to save my best friend, watching my sister condemn a man to death because she wanted to protect me, listening to the screams and standing by, feeling Edgar's blood pool over my hands as I try to stop the bleeding, and now, not knowing whether my comrades will live once my mother finds out."

Art pushed the box away and entered the cell to sit criss crossed in front of him. He shook his head. "You were willing to lose a finger."

"Of course," Lelouch muttered, "but my sister would have been devastated... and maybe my parents will think I am here willingly and spare the division."

"Your friends have no idea," said Art wonderingly. He leaned back and reached through the bars to grab two bottles. "Drink. You'll need it."

Lelouch accepted the offer with trembling hands. "I hate lying and I trust them... but if they knew? It wouldn't be fair to them."

The silence between them stretched as they both searched for something to put off the inevitable.

"Does your mother love him? They always look so... together." Art took a shaky sip of water.

"What choice does she have?" Lelouch asked. "She was a commoner and he was a prince favored to become the next Emperor. She couldn't have said no even if she wanted to. I used to think she was a real life Cinderella."

"You don't want your friends to lose their ability to choose. You could always order them," Art trailed off and glanced out of the cell. "Oliver drew a picture of your mother... he gave it to me. He really admired her and thought Britannia would become better because your mother proved weakness wasn't physical."

Lelouch groaned. "It's so weird and creepy. Why is everyone so obsessed with her? Even Roy. He collects newspaper clippings."

Snickering, Art said, "She's a national hero."

"She overreacts constantly and never bothers being subtle. She executes people to send a message and thinks she's always right."

Art laughed. "Oliver got into a huge fight with Brie over the King Arthur stories. I think it was the only argument he ever won with her and he was so unbearably smug. Held it over her head for months until she finally joined the symphony."

Lelouch closed his eyes. Reconciling the Count as a person with a life, history, and a job was hard. She was the enemy. Art was the enemy. Yet…

Sorrowfully, Art continued, "In the winter, we would sneak outside and go sledding. The nurse would always give us an earful because it could aggravate Oliver's condition. He never cared. Hated being locked inside where no one could see the so-called demon child. He even climbed trees which... wasn't the best idea."

"You sound close."

"It was just the two of us for years while Brie was away and I moved in after my mother died. I would sit by his side, unable to do anything, as he had his episodes.. I learned to always carry a thick jacket, even in the summer, because we never knew when they would happen. After the attack, the seizures got worse and he couldn't go outside. I hated seeing him like that. And the noble? I tried for months to bring him to justice. I collected evidence and spent my meager savings on bribes. It did nothing. So I gave him to Brie."

The Count killed the noble then. Lelouch wondered if that had been the first kill or if a trail of bodies had always followed her. She killed a noble and never got caught. He shuddered.

Art glanced at his watch. "If things were different... Britannia killed Oliver... bombed Truro. I'm sorry, but I have to do this."

Returning with a syringe, he grabbed Lelouch's arm and hovered. The amber fluid formed a bubble at the tip of the needle. He set the syringe back down and ripped open a packet and began to clean the skin, once again stalling for time.

The water, the interminable water which Lelouch could never place, dripped.

"The Emperor didn't authorize Truro's bombing. He only does things that benefit him," Lelouch whispered.

"Just," Art said with regret that permeated the air, "think of something happy. It makes things better"

Happy. His sweet sister. His friends who always had his back. Happy.

And a kidnapper who still hesitated.

Lelouch forced a smile. "You don't have to watch. I'll be fine," he whispered while his mind screamed: escape.

The needle pricked and coldness settled underneath his skin.

"I'm sorry," Art whispered over and over, but he stayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research Notes:
> 
> -Solitary confinement is legally defined as 22hrs without meaningful human contact. While Lelouch's perception of time is a bit skewed, he is experiencing a significant lack of human contact. Furthermore, children and teens seem to react extremely negatively although the research I found was rather limited.
> 
> -Common symptoms of solitary confinement include anxiety, depression, anger, cognitive disturbances (impaired memory and concentration), perceptual distortions (hypersensitivity to hallucinations), paranoia and psychosis, self harm, and suicide. It is not possible to predict which symptoms will occur although some are more often diagnosed or self-reported. A Sourcebook on Solitary Confinement by Sharon Shalev goes much more in-depth with proper citations (it's also free which is a plus).
> 
> -Torture is not an effective tool for gaining information nor is it, like George Orwell proposed in 1984, capable of changing people's minds/hearts. Victims will have long lasting psychological harm but often resist in numerous ways. And just because a person is complying does not mean they are broken, instead they are often waiting for a more opportune moment. In fact, torture is more likely to turn the victime vehemently against the perpetrator. A free resource that further digs into this is: "Does Torture Work? A Sociolegal Assessment of the Practice in Historical and Global Perspective" by Lisa Hajjar
> 
> Author's Note:
> 
> I do a fair share of research for my fic so decided to share some of it instead of doing Worldbuilding Thoughts. Last chapter, I mentioned draining my emotional battery and that is in part due to how much information I consumed and the various first hand accounts I read through. There are a lot of misconceptions regarding torture, often perpetrated by popular media (ex: any super hero/spy movie where they dangle the bad guy off a roof). I wanted to make sure that I treated the topic with the seriousness it deserved and not run into the gratuitous angsty torture scene common in fiction.
> 
> I can of course not promise that my portrayal of any issue is accurate, but I do try. If anyone sees any issues, please point them out. (Military stuff remains my greatest weakness because that information isn't conveniently available in nice journal articles.)
> 
> The next chapter is much shorter than normal and called: Memories. Should give you a hint as to why it's shorter.
> 
> See you next week. (Or via discord: discord (period) gg (slash)uSBegVj)
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	33. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

**Chapter 33: Memories**

* * *

_Refrain is a highly regulated psychotropic drug known for causing hallucinations. Users will relive old memories with significant emotional significance. It is occasionally used under a doctor's supervision to assist in the recovery of repressed memories. More controversial is the use of alt-Refrains in interrogations as a truth serum or to aid witnesses in recalling significant details._

_A single dose can cause significant side effects such as nausea, respiratory depression, hypotension, high fever, seizures, and in rare cases: cardiac arrest or comas. Long term use is linked with cognitive decline, degenerative nerves, Raynaud's syndrome, blindness, and persistent hallucinations._

_Refrain is difficult to detect in the blood, especially off-shoot varieties, which increases the mortality rate of complications. It also interferes with numerous medications, either increasing the half-life or preventing them from being absorbed._

—_Common Drugs in the Emergency Room_

* * *

**A Bathroom**

The wooden board snaps into two perfect halves with a deafening kiai. Suzaku relishes the congratulatory grin on Tohdoh-sensei's face as he stands up, holds the halves out, and bows. Finally, he has perfected the spin kick and broken the board.

Suzaku returns the bow and accepts the pieces, intent on taking them to his room where a small pile of wooden boards rest in his closet. "Thank you very much, Tohdoh-Sensei for all your help. I couldn't have done it without you."

"It was my pleasure, Suzaku-kun," his sensei replies and straightens.

Turning to the dojo door, Suzkau glimpses a flash of fabric from his father's kimono behind Lelouch, watching passively. His father hasn't seen Suzaku's success. Again.

Forcing a smile, he bounds to the edge of the room and a cough from Tohdoh-sensei reminds him to turn around and bow to the dojo. Lelouch giggles behind him.

"Shut up. But did you see? I did it!"

Lelouch raises his eyebrows. "Congratulations. You broke a piece of wood."

"Like you could do any better."

"Of course, I would get an axe. Or you know... get someone to do it for me."

"To master the mind, one must first master the body," Suzaku retorts as a grin threatens to split his face. He knows Lelouch is acting surly to get a rise.

Tohdoh-sensei laughs and walks past him, ruffling his hair. "The saying is mind over body. Speaking of your mind, you haven't been skimping on your training?"

"No." Suzaku shakes his head. "I've been in the dojo every day. I even practiced before breakfast. Please believe me!"

He can't bear the idea that his sensei thinks of him as a slacker. Of not learning the next forms. The advanced wheel kick. And... Tohdoh-sensei promised that Suzaku will get to spar if he impresses him.

"Fitness freak," Lelouch whispers.

Tohdoh-sensei looks down at him sternly. "Suzaku. What did I say about overdoing it? But no. We're going to focus on your studies. Why, you even have a young prince here to practice English with."

No.

Absolutely not.

"Can't I practice more? I think I was slightly off balance," Suzaku pleads.

"Afraid of some books?" Lelouch teases and darts back too slowly to avoid Suzaku's punch to the arm. "Seriously? That hurts!"

"Suzaku. Don't assault royalty." Tohdoh-sensei smirks. "But we can't send a shrimp back to Britannia after we received a prince. Come on, Your Highness, you need to train."

Suzaku laughs at his friend's look of horror and begging eyes. He's safe. The mountain of books will not harm today.

"And you, Suzaku. You'll practice with Her Highness," Tohdoh-sensei says and shatters his dreams.

Absolutely not. He refuses. Nunnally is the most terrifying girl he ever met. And Kaguya is here... meaning that the two are undoubtedly up to mischief at his expense. He looks up at his sensei's stern face and his shoulders drop.

Resigning himself to his fate, Suzaku turns around.

"Suzaku! Don't leave me alone with him, you traitor."

At least Lelouch will suffer as well. Suzaku has never met someone more allergic to exercise.

"I'm a prince. You can't order me. I refuse to submit to this... torture."

Suzaku rolls his eyes. "It's just self-defense."

"And? That's what guards are for," Lelouch counters. "And he'll be hitting me. That's assault."

His instructor never hits harder than he intends to. His punches are more like love taps.

Crossing his arms, Suzaku says, "Stop being such a weakling." And because his sensei needs all the help he can get in getting Lelouch to acknowledge his authority, he adds, "You want to protect Nunnally, don't you?"

Lelouch glares at him, but doesn't object when Tohdoh-sensei throws a gi at him.

How his friend can be so weak while prizing his intelligence, is incomprehensible. A weak body sheltering a strong mind is an oxymoron. They're two sides of the same coin.

He shrugs. Britannians are weird.

* * *

**A Cell**

The window shatters, destroying the spectacular rendition of Elizabeth the Third as she landed on the shores of the Homeland, having escaped Napoleon's forces. The first bullet ricochets off the suit of armor and embeds itself in the Emperor's portrait. Then another bullet, followed by another. The lightbulbs on the chandelier burst and disperse into a fine mist of glass.

Lelouch, following the orders of a mysterious puppeteer, lunges forward to his sister as she looks up from her artwork.

Her beautiful, purple eyes focus on him and he takes a moment to appreciate the rare sight. They are radiant although he mourns the sight of fear. Why does he only remember her eyes filled with fear? They should be happy.

His body, as always, is too slow. He can feel the distance between them stretching. He has to move and save her.

He trips and his palms skid over the glass shards.

Pain.

Nunnally, his sweet and precious sister, is finally beginning to move. Her eyes lock onto him and she stretches out her arm as if to help him.

The cabinet, filled with precious china, wobbles. The teacups teeter to the side and bang against the glass door. The large teapot with gold inlays inches forward and Lelouch watches in horror as the scene begins to replay.

He knows what will happen. He has lived through it.

Yet, here he is, being forced to live through his failure again.

"Move!" he cries, according to the script.

And like before, she does not move.

The teapot in all it's wealthy glory skids through the glass door. The shards sliced into Nunnally's skin and he lunges forward once more, while glass shreds his skin.

It didn't hurt that much the last time.

_The last time?_

The damn teapot which he doesn't think is possible to despise with such passion, strikes her head. Her eyes roll back. She crumples to the ground.

He grabs her arm, but the cabinet is still wobbling and then falling. His heart pounds and the moment stretches on, amplified by the certainty of what will happen next. Why won't the nightmare stop?

_This is the past._

The cabinet lands and he hears three loud distinctive cracks through the shattering of china: one for his arm, two for his sister's legs. At least she is unconscious and doesn't have to feel the hungry fire creeping up from the impact and setting every nerve alight.

Through the daze of pain, he turns to the sound of glass crunching beneath heavy feet. The assassin's body is lean and androgynous: too young to tell their gender.

But their voice has a distinctive feminine tilt as she locks eyes on him from across the room. "Still alive?"

He never remembers the assassin. In every dream and nightmare that follows this fateful day, the assassin is unknown: a nameless horror. But here, in this dream, she has a face. Her eyes are grey blue with a hint of noble features.

His head begins to raise as his younger self notices the threat.

The terror of the moment abates. He has lived through this before. He won't die and that certainty allows him to look past her and notice the slumped guards in the doorway and the trail of blood following the assassin's every step.

Her face contrite, she says, "Really don't like finishing off kids. Don't worry, I'll make it quick."

He wants to believe her. A red haze washes over the room and his younger self whose body is frozen in terror, begins to relax.

_Relax._

Why is he relaxing? Why is the world obscured in a shade of red? Why is the assassin walking forward with such certainty that she will not be harmed?

Lelouch... He is not relaxing. He can still feel the thrum of terror in his blood in contrast to his younger self whose pain begins to fade. This is not real... yet it is. He is thirteen, not nine.

The dichotomy of emotions breaks the illusion.

He is in the Count's cell, not in the room where the assassin approaches their prone forms. Through the haze, he can see Art watching him with his lips pressed into a thin line. A drug-induced hallucination.

The Count assumed he would see her. Instead, he sees an old childhood memory which makes no sense.

_Relax._

The order rattles his mind, but whatever hallucinogenic the assassin is employing, it matters not within the realm of dreams.

Lelouch's real heart, not his childhood one, is beating rapidly. His younger self reaches out toward the tassels of the sword lying by his side. The fingers brush against the soft strings, but he is too far. He inches forward.

The assassin pauses in her approach. Lelouch forces himself to take a deep measured breath. He is thirteen, not nine and terrified. He has walked through battlefields and protected those he holds dear... but not Edgar. Edgar who died for him.

His younger self is still reaching for the sword and the assassin pulls out her gun. Then, she hoists it again and pulls out a badge. She believes she has all the time in the world... and Lelouch can only wonder if that is true. She has made it this far into the palace and he cannot hear a single gunshot or guard shout.

Everything is silent.

The badge... the badge is familiar. York has a similar one, but a slightly different design.

Why is there an OSI agent attempting to assassinate him?

She pockets the badge again and rolls her eyes. "It's useless to resist, boy. Stronger men have failed to fight off my Geass."

Lelouch clings to the unfamiliar word. This false feeling of calmness that permeates the air is something the assassin claims. Perhaps it is the name of the toxin she developed?

"A terrorist attack," she mutters and walks up to him again and glances back at the door. Finally, he can hear a distant commotion.

She pulls out a syringe and Lelouch stares at it in hatred and confusion. She is supposed to try and kill him. That is what the script says.

Instead, she walks forward and kneels by his side. "I only need one of you... The girl is more malleable."

Nunnally.

Not his sister.

He will not allow his sister to be harmed or taken or used.

His younger self is calm and relaxed as she leans over him and checks his sister pulse. He should be fighting for his sister, but his body rests on the ground like a pliable doll. Lelouch watches in horror as she preps the syringe and even the certainty that his sister is fine cannot ease his frantic heart.

She is fine, right? Or has he imagined her safety, unable to cope with her loss?

No. She is fine.

There are shouts in the hallway and the assassin frowns as she turns around to look at the door.

Finally, his younger self manages to grasp the tassel and pulls the sword closer. Once again, he drives it into her gut like his memory claimed. And the blood is pooling over his hands, dripping down the sword. He keeps pushing.

"How?"

The assassin stumbles back, pulling the sword out of his hands and collapses on the ground. Whatever hallucinogenic she employed, is no longer in effect. Lelouch can smell the copper stench of blood and the acidic stench of the battlefield he has grown accustomed to. Emotions once again align.

Nunnally?

Is she alright?

He has... killed someone?

Bismarck runs into the room, with his gun drawn. His left eye—normally sewn shut and Lelouch thought it was because he lost it in a duel—is wide open and scanning the room. Stepping over the assassin, he leans down and checks Nunnally.

"Hang in there, kid," he whispers to Lelouch, before straightening and shouting, "They're alive."

Lelouch blinks wearily. He cannot keep his eyes open and sleep beckons to him. Nunnally will be fine. Everything will be okay.

Glass crunch and Lelouch squints as his father strides into the room and abruptly stops before the assassin. Why is he here? Why does he even bother?

"Do they need medical aid?"

"Nunnally is unconscious, but breathing normally. Lelouch... he stabbed the assassin," Bismarck says.

He... he didn't kill them? He is sure he did. The assassin was his first kill...

His father's voice rumbles angrily. "Kneel before your Emperor."

Opening his eyes, Lelouch watches as the fallen form gasps and staggers to her knee. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was weak. I didn't expect the boy to fight through my Geass. I will submit myself to any punishment necessary."

"V.V.," hisses his father.

"Your Majesty?"

"Why were you ordered to kill them?"

The assassin pauses. "I do not know, Your Majesty. Were my orders incorrect?"

"Yes!" He roars and strikes the assassin. She falls back to the ground, gasping for breath. "Why?"

Whimpering, she says, "I was just following orders. Please, forgive me, Your Majesty! I'm but your humble servant. I don't know why."

Even Lelouch, half asleep, thinks she's pitiful. She's painfully loyal to his father, but then, why?

"Who let you into the palace?"

"How did you disable the alarm?"

She answers dutifully although the pool of blood beneath her grows. His father's face darkens and Lelouch's heart beats faster. His father is somehow the largest threat in the room. Not the assassin with the hallucinogenic. Not Bismarck with a gun and a sword. But his unarmed father.

"Where is V.V.?"

The question stumps her. "I don—I don't know!"

"Execute her," his father orders and crouches.

Lelouch clenches his eyes shut as Bismark walks past with heavy steps. A familiar hiss of metal against a scabbard.

"Please, Your Majesty. I didn't know! Please, mercy! I'll do anything."

A squelch and a thud. The stench of blood is overpowering and Lelouch gags.

"Still awake, Lelouch?" his father asks and Lelouch opens his eyes to stare at the face of his blood spattered father. Bismark stands by his side, wiping the sword drenched in blood. "You shouldn't have heard that."

"Father?" he whispers.

His father smiles. He never smiles. "Let's not give your mother another reason to be angry with me. Come on, Lelouch. Look at me."

Lelouch is too tired to disobey. He looks into his father's eyes.

A bird.

The sweet relief of falling unconsciousness...

* * *

**A Bathroom**

Suzaku sits outside the Tokyo residence under the relentless sun as guards patrol the perimeter. Lelouch and Nunnally are sequestered inside as his father meets with various important government officials, generals, and wealthy families. He hears their muffled laughter from inside and shifts on the stone steps.

It isn't fair. He should be inside doing his duty as the son of the Prime Minister, but instead his father banished him outside. He is a disgrace to the family.

But he didn't even do anything.

Only introduced Lelouch as his friend.

A shadow looms over him and Suzaku looks up, wiping his face along his sleeve. "Tohdoh-sensei?"

He passes him a popsicle and sits down with a grunt. "Thought you might be hot."

"Thank you," Suzaku whispers and the popsicle melts across his tongue. The cool flavor eases the growing headache and the gnawing disappointment. "I don't understand why he's mad."

Tohdoh-sensei leans back. "Your father is stressed. The election isn't looking too good next year and there are whispers that Britannia is planning another military offensive. But he only sent you outside, so why don't we enjoy this wonderful day?"

"Really?"

"Yes, Suzaku-kun. If anyone asks, we were doing important student and teacher training," he says seriously and then cracks a large grin. "Think you can lie?"

Suaku nods and clambers to his feet. He gets an entire day with his sensei although he wouldn't mind spending the time training. But if Tohdoh-sensei thinks his excursion is important, then Suzaku is only too happy to follow.

A loud crash from nearby draws their attention and Tohdoh-sensei's hand drifts to his gun. No one should be able to get past the guards patrolling the premises, but tensions are running high.

"Suzaku, we're here to rescue you," Lelouch declares as he runs up to him and Nunnally follows more sedately. He stops abruptly at the sight of Tohdoh-sensei and stiffens. "My apologies, Tohdoh-sensei."

His sensei sighs and pinches his nose. "I guess you will be joining our field trip?"

Nunnally beams and ten minutes later, they are squished into the backseat of Tohdoh-sensei's car and rolling through the gates with none the wiser. It's exhilarating. Like one of Lelouch's epic plans to escape the monotony of the shrine and stifling guards to work on their secret base. Except this time, there is no need for his cat, Tora, to be released onto the unsuspecting masses.

Cats hate him. But Tora... She's evil. Not even salmon calms her fury.

Of course that means Lelouch and her are best friends. Suzaku once caught her sprawled across his friend's lap as he read a book. And she was purring.

Lelouch whispers, "Sensei could be planning to kill us. There are no guards."

A typical Lelouch question whose mind always seems to wander how other people will kill him. Suzaku shouldn't be surprised, but as always, he is.

Tohdoh-sensei chuckles. "No, Lelouch. I'm not killing my second favorite student."

Warmed, Suzaku leans back in his seat.

"Besides, without you, Suzaku would never bother doing his schoolwork."

"Hey!" Suzaku protests. "Lelouch can't make me do anything!"

His friend snickers, but finally relaxes and Suzaku realises that was his sensei's intention all along. He always seems to know how to best handle Lelouch when he gets into one of those so called moods.

Once, Suzaku dared to ask his sensei why and he only smiled sadly and said that Lelouch needed a friend he could trust. And despite how much time passes and how much Suzaku tries to prove himself worthy, there is a part of Lelouch that doubts him. Suzaku can only work to be the best friend possible.

Tohdoh-sensei parks the car and Suzaku stares out the window, surprised. Joypolis. An amusement park.

The last time Suzaku visited was before his father became the Prime Minister. Three days after the vote by the House of Representatives and the night before the public announcement. His father brought him here with an entourage of plain clothed guards.

He was so excited... but the day turned into a failure with his father reprimanding every childish gesture he made and his mother leaving halfway without a word.

Today, Suzaku decides, will be different.

His sensei opens the door and shoves a pile of sweaters and hats at them. "Put them on. We're going in disguise."

Lelouch, of course, grins like a moron.

The day passes in a blur. Some rides Nunnally can't ride, requiring sight, but Lelouch finally trusts Tohdoh-sensei enough to allow her to part from his side. And Suzaku is given the honorable task of guarding the prince. An honorable job.

Tohdoh-sensei trusts him.

Relishing the thrill of freedom, Suzaku pulls Lelouch to every ride. The Joypolis Explorer. The House of Dead—and learns his friend hates zombies. Spicy Taxi.

After a crushing defeat at Sonic Athletes, Lelouch drags him to the Phoenix Wright Ace attraction. Suzaku will never understand his friend's obsession with the game.

They return to the car filled with sugar and chattering, while Tohdoh-sensei pretends to sulk behind a book. Suzaku knows he's secretly smiling. The corners of his eyes give him away.

Nunally carries with her a sizable loot of stuffed animals and Lelouch finally relaxes, falling asleep on the ride home.

No one noticed their absence, so they park in front of the house unhindered.

"Thank you," Lelouch tells Tohdoh-sensei with a proper Japanese bow.

Suzaku cannot sneak back inside like his friends. His father told him to stay outside and so he will. Even if his heart twinges. Because his father hasn't noticed he left despite the late hour.

A warm, comforting hand settles on his shoulder and he looks up at Tohdoh's proud face. "A game of shogi?"

And because Suzaku loves his sensei, he says, "Yes."

Shogi is still a stupid game.

* * *

**A Cell**

Lelouch stands among piles of the dead with Suzaku and his sister by his side. The stench of death and rot permeates the air. He throws up. There is nothing left in his stomach.

In movies, the dead always close their eyes. Not here.

Here, the dead gaze at him accusingly as he walks past. Asking him what they had done to deserve this. Sometimes he can hear the bodies rustle, pop, and groan.

Dead bodies underneath the unrelenting sun are not quiet.

They know that now after the third time searching for the sound. Desperately, foolishly, hoping that someone is alive.

All dead.

The light pink cherry blossom—they planned to attend Hanami with Suzaku's family—stands out against the realm of the dead filled with burnt corpses, dark flaking red pools of blood, and skin pale as bones. Sometimes he sees an actual bone protrude.

The cherry blossom is pinned to the tattered shirt of a small girl, Nunnally's age.

Unlike the others, there is no blood or charred skin and he morbidly wonders how she died. Internal bleeding? Poisonous gas? Smoke from the fires clogging her lungs?

"Lelouch." Suzaku grasps his shoulder and wrenches him away.

"I have to—"

"—Keep moving," Suzaku says. His eyes are swollen and tear tracks stain his cheeks. "For Nunnally."

For Nunnally he walks through a graveyard that he has no right to enter.

_All dead… Just like Edgar._

He sinks in an ocean of blood as he kneels besides Edgar, a comrade, a friend, and a brother. Lelouch needs to save him, but the bony fingers clamp around his wrist.

Why won't he let go?

Lelouch can save him. Has too. He won't let another death lie on his conscience.

But Edgar isn't letting him. Instead he speaks. Painful, laborious words.

Why won't he let go? Frederick is waiting for him and Edgar has so much to live for. So much good he can do because he saves lives. Not like Lelouch.

His eyes sweep over Edgar's frozen chest. No. His jaw hangs limply. No. The skin is pearly white…

Dead.

_Make it stop._

A prisoner, a Crow, waits bound before him and York approaches, talking, always talking as if he is everyone's best friend.

Why won't the Crow talk?

Why won't he spare Lelouch the agony of being forced to watch?

To hear the man's scream?

To smell the mix of blood and piss?

_No more._

Civilians run through the streets and Lelouch... he gives the order. Innocents will die. His platoon will not be executed. But the decision feels wrong. There are children in the street. And he sees red blood staining the snow.

_Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts
> 
> -When Refrain was introduced in the anime, my first thought was that there should be one that does the opposite. Hence, alt-Refrain.
> 
> -In the anime, C.C. manages to break Charles's Geass although there are a variety of theories on how that worked. Jeremiah also has a Geass canceller which broke Lelouch's and Charles's Geass on Shirley. Therefore, breaking through a Geass is possible and because Refrain is a "magic drug," I have it able to interfere with Geass… Just unpredictably.
> 
> -Joypolis is a real amusement park and so are the rides.
> 
> Author's Note
> 
> You have no idea how much I wanted to tell everyone what actually happened after I wrote ch. 1. This is also partially why I skimmed over Suzaku and Lelouch's time in Japan so quickly because I knew I was writing a flashback chapter eventually.
> 
> Why present tense for a flashback? I chose to write the story in past tense because it gives me the flexibility to have characters running around Geassed without the reader knowing. I did consider writing this in past tense as well, but I think using present tense to signal the truth is a nice little addition. And it prevents people questioning whether the events here actually happened.
> 
> Next chapter is nice and long.
> 
> See you next week. (Or via discord: discord (period) gg (slash)uSBegVj)
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	34. Clipped Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: The great war machine of Britannia lumbers on, but like machinery, Britannia will also break. Already the signs are there as nobles and commoners prepare. In the midst of it all, are Lelouch and Nunnally, unable to hide. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, that doesn't make things easier.

_Dear Frederick,_

_I hope this letter will never reach your hands and that in a few years, I may burn it and watch the ashes drift into the wind. But if you are reading this, then I have died and I'm truly so sorry. I loved you. You have no idea how my heart beat faster every moment you are near. How I yearn for your presence when you are away. Or how many times I've rewritten this letter looking for the right words. In an ideal world, I could envision a future of ours together as we finally retired from military life. I would be a doctor in a small village that didn't care from where I learned my skills. You would probably be a craftsman and every night I would sit by your side as you whittled away._

_Unfortunately, if you're reading this, then my dream will always remain a dream. Even if I'm no longer there, I must ask one more selfish thing of you: move on. Find someone new to love. Find new oases of happiness in this dark, sordid world without mercy. You must keep moving and holding your head high even when the world threatens to crush you. Please do not lose the kindness and gentleness that I loved._

_Lastly, as a favor, please look after the squad. They too deserve a bright future. Henry needs acceptance because he thinks everyone will reject him. Roy is blind to the injustices and cruelties of the world. One day, he will realize the truth and will need someone to lean on as he finds his way and purpose again. Alex and Lelouch enlisted at twelve and are too aware of how the world functions. Alex doesn't trust adults and views the world as a threat. He needs someone to show him the good in the world and teach him to question Lelouch. Speaking of the Gosling, he'll inevitably blame himself so please remind him that I could never hate him. He could be the Emperor himself and I would only see a child who believes the world to be his burden._

_Keep my family safe._

_Goodbye Fred, I love you and writing this hurts so much. But you deserve closure and to move on._

_Love,_

_Edgar_

—_Personal Letter from the 712th Division, dated 2013_

* * *

**Near La Sarre, Area 2**

Marianne passed the burnt town and the rioters in the street with pursed lips. The mob shouted and screamed while the military pushed back and her own guards clustered around the car. She had seen the plumes of smoke and fire from above in her helicopter, but being on the ground lent a sense of horror that could never be captured on a report.

The atmosphere of growth and hope that captured all Britannia with Charles's ascension was gone. Instead, Area Two resembled scenes from her childhood where parents corralled their children indoors at the first hint of nobility and a gun was never far from reach.

Even the mob was familiar, reminiscent of times when tax collectors came in force and the locals, with nothing to lose, murdered them in the street.

Before the day was over, Marriane would receive a desperate plea for an audience. The locals—some from the same mob that accosted her now—would beg for her protection and forgiveness, selling each other out to protect their family.

This was the Britannia from the past, not the one she and Charles had ushered in.

The army encampment wasn't in much better shape with hundreds of Honorary Britannians shackled in the snow and glaring as she passed. Soldiers stood guard and their postures straightened as they saw her car approach. The smell of fire and filth wafted through the air.

In the distance, she spotted deserters flee for their lives. Gunfire mowed them down.

Snarling, she ordered the car to stop and allowed Bismark to lower the ramp. He attached the wheelblades and she rolled out onto the fresh powdery snow.

Her eyes zeroed in on the communication trailer and the nearby tent that would always hold the OSI agent. York had a lot to answer for.

Ignoring the curious looks of awe and the crunching of snow as they fled to find their superiors as soon as her back turned, she entered York's tent. "Hello _Sergeant Malfoire_."

Knocking over a cup of pens, he bowed clumsily. "Your Majesty! What an honor. How may I be of service?"

The wheels slipped on the ice and Marianne took a calming breath as Bismark pushed her forward so she could probably glare at her insolent agent. "I hear my son is missing. You didn't inform me."

His half-smile froze. "I am deploying all my resources at my disposal to find him. I filed a proper report the moment I heard, but mail is troubled these days."

Marianne narrowed her eyes. Perhaps he was speaking the truth, but as Nunnally astutely pointed out, he had no incentive to. "Effective immediately, I am taking command. This mockery of Britannia's might has gone on long enough. Debrief me on the current situation."

Charles could protest all he wanted later. Right now, her son was in danger. She could only hope that the Count didn't know who he was...

"Sergeant Malfoire!" a bony boy screamed as he ran into the test without any consideration for proper protocol. He squeaked as Bismarck drew his sword and pointed the unwavering tip at his neck and the stack of papers in his hands scattered.

"You're the Empress! Oh..." he said and blanched. He dropped to his knee and bowed his head. "My sincere apologies ma—Your High—Majesty."

York pinched his nose and glowered at the insolent boy. "Please forgive him, Your Majesty. He forgets his manners when excited."

Ignoring the nuisance, she focused on the snake before her. "Which idiot gave the order to fire on the locals?"

The boy made a sound suspiciously like a snort. Why was he still here? Shouldn't he have scampered off, realizing the implicit threat she embodied?

York threw him an impressive glare, before his expression cooled to calm politeness. "Major General Fortescue thought it the most expedient solution to resolve the situation."

"Really? And why is a fool, who can't tell the difference between a War of Conquest and a War of Honor in charge?"

Coughing slightly, York delicately said, "His uncle is Margrave Cornwallis. Nobody dared to discipline him and all reports of bribery and misappropriation of supplies have mysteriously vanished."

He glared at the paper beneath him and Marianne wondered how many reports he had sent for no action to be taken. She could feel an oncoming migraine and shared a suffering look with Bismark. This disaster would take weeks to sort out which was precious time she didn't have.

"Alex, we found—" The soldier, waving a pamphlet clipping, abruptly stopped and stared at her with wide glimmering eyes. The dark skinned Number behind him inched backwards.

Marianne shifted in her seat to raise an eyebrow at York. "Is this the standard of discipline you enforce?"

He winced. "It's... unfortunately endemic to the division."

The youths slowly inched to the tent flap, dragging the soldier with wide eyes behind them.

"Where are you going?" she barked.

They froze and the Number paled.

Wide-eyes finally blinked. "Our apologies, Your Majesty. We're sorry for the intrusion."

"You all came here for a reason important enough to ignore protocol, so spit it out." She crossed her arms and waited expectantly. If she had to take on this mess, then she would start by enforcing proper discipline.

The bony boy stared down at the ground, but spoke first. "I wished to inform Sergeant Malfoire that I compiled a list of possible ladies who could be the Count, Your Majesty."

He had to be a fledgling OSI agent that York took under his wing.

A noble? To think nobility would stir unrest among the commoners and attempt to destroy the very structure that put them in power. Something was amiss, but if the boy was right... One of them knew where her son was.

She glared at the wide-eyed soldier and Number, who shared a brief glance.

"Well?" she asked, tapping her fingers on the armrest. She had things to do and a son to find.

The soldier bowed properly which raised an eyebrow. "My apologies, Your Majesty. It's a private matter and contains information confidential to the Fadiman company."

That brand sounded oddly familiar, but his statement was a nice way to say he didn't trust her. She leaned forward. "Your confidentiality does not concern me, soldier. You may share."

"I wished to gauge Alex's opinion on mixing cinnamon, jalapenos, and rosemary in a new exotic scent of shampoo which would capture the smells of Britannia's might."

The other two stared at him incredulously and Marianne cast a glance at York, who had continued on his paperwork.

Without looking up, York commented, "Fadiman, if I hear such idiocy out of your mouth again, I will make you clean the latrines for the rest of your service. I hope for the sake of your family's fortune that you are not considering such a concoction as employable for relaxation. It would be in your best interest to share any information you came across regarding Lamperouge."

Marianne froze. They knew her son?

York continued, "Though the paltry information you scrounge up will hardly worsen the charge of defection."

"Excuse me?" Marianne gripped the armrest. "Defection?" Her son wouldn't defect.

The soldier took a deep breath. "Lel— Lamperouge did not defect. He is a loyal soldier and was taken hostage. I found—"

Marianne, losing her patience, zeroed in on the clipping in his hand and half hopped to the other side of the wheelchair and leaned out precariously to snatch the clipping out of his hand. He gaped like a fish and Bismarck rightened her wheelchair.

On the back of the glossed paper, obviously from a pamphlet of some kind, her son stared back at her with tired eyes and his face stony. He wore the uniform of a Crow.

A hand wrapped around her heart and squeezed. Charles would not be pleased. He would be livid. Had she really pushed her son this far away that he would betray Britannia? Nunnally?

She suppressed the urge to rip out her phone and call Reuben to make sure her daughter was still safe in school. He would have called her the instance something was amiss.

Scanning the photo and her son's rigid posture, she searched for a sign. He knew the codes to indicate distress, but... nothing. He hadn't used a single one.

No.

She would not lose him.

"He did not defect. The photo is manipulated," the soldier interrupted and belatedly added, "Your Majesty."

These were his friends and Lelouch had protected his Number friend from her all those years ago. He wouldn't leave them behind and they believed that he hadn't defected.

Distantly, she asked, "How did you come to this conclusion?"

At the end of the tunnel, the soldier replied, "Certain parts of the image are over exposed, but the uniform isn't indicating it was taken in lower lighting conditions. There is also evidence of color manipulation. The purple in his eyes is more saturated than in the background. Lastly, if you look at his uniform, the horizontal strips curl slightly upwards because someone edited his proportions. My aunt uses the same techniques in advertising and creating a more pleasing image, Your Majesty."

She could imagine Lelouch standing still, terrified for his life, but willing to do anything to survive. Ice flowed through her veins. The Count knew he was her son... They were taunting her. Why else use his image in propaganda?

"How did you get this?"

Silence greeted her and she tore her gaze away from her son's pleading eyes. Never again would she not listen to his plea for help.

"You will comply or I will have you all charged with treason for conspiring with terrorists."

The Number stepped forward, rested a hand on the soldier, and shook his head. "I contacted the locals and expressed interest in fighting against Britannia. I have contacts in the village who were willing to set me up with a recruiter for the right price which is where I received a pamphlet. The following edition had his image, but not the one before, meaning the picture was probably recent."

Well... admitting to treason in front of her, the Emperor's Executioner, took guts. Of course, it was still treason. "Soldier, arrest him."

The soldier flinched and his shoulders rolled back. "Private Vega is attempting to protect me. I made contact with the terrorist cell."

The bony boy stood up. "I instructed the others to look for information and such the fault for any action lies with me."

The soldier kicked him. "As the highest ranking—"

"—Stop!" Marianne ordered and massaged her temple. If they were all intent on falling on the sword for each other, then she would arrest the lot of them. But hadn't she promised her daughter to withhold justice until Lelouch was safe?

"Major General Foretscue," announced a voice outside of the tent.

"Enter," Marrianne said irritably. Today was a stream of endless interruptions.

"Your Majesty," the swallow faced lord bowed with a dramatic flourish. "It is an honor to have you visit our esteemed division. You must be weary from your journey. My tent is most accommodating and away from"—his lips curled as he gestured at the trio—"such rabble."

Marainne knew his type. He rode on his family's esteemed tailcoats and greedily hoarded wealth so he could flaunt it over all others. He and her son must have been like oil and water or Napoleon and Empress Elizabeth. It was amazing that the division was still standing with this incompetent fool.

"I'm stripping you of your rank effective immediately," she said and waved her hand at Bismarck. "Make sure Private Fortescue goes through intake and find him an appropriate squadron.

He squeaked, "My uncle is Margrave Cornwallis! You cannot do this. I will not live among the riff-raff."

Over his protests, she said, "My word is the law you swore to uphold. You have already failed in your duty to allow the division to become a stain upon Britannia. You will cease babbling and follow orders or I will open a full investigation in your and your family's abuse of the Emperor's forces. Being Margrave Cornwallis's favored nephew will not then save you from your fate."

His face reddened and Bismarck stepped closer to her, ready to intervene.

"Lamperouge's treason caused all this discord. I am not to blame and you insult my honor by suggesting this rabble is even worth listening to." He sneered. "Of course what can I expect from someone of your breeding. The Emperor bestows upon you some paltry gifts and you forget your place, _Your Majesty._"

The argument and insults weren't new, but most had learned to hold their tongue. The intelligent ones after she tricked the Rackwell heir into issuing a duel and graciously spared his life after a crushing defeat. But no matter how many times she dominated the battlefield in her Ganymede or defeated the nobles who were foolish to challenge her, there was some idiot who thought to disparage her.

When Charles made her a Knight of Honor, she thought they would finally accept her or cease their foolish attempts. An attack on a Knight of Honor was an attack against their liege.

What a fool Marianne had been.

Nobles like Fortescue would never accept her. But Charles had married her and that gave her real power.

Marianne laughed. "Soldiers, detain him."

The trio complied a tad too eagerly.

"Unhand me, filth," Fortescue spat. "I will overlook this transgression, _Your Majesty_, if you end this farce and apologize right now. Even a bed warmer like yourself knows not to anger my family."

"How far the Cornwallis family has fallen," Marianne tutted. "Once they saved the Empire and built the model that has allowed us to survive and thrive against the onslaught of the E.U. But you were always a disgrace. Nobody dared to touch you, so they shuffled you off to the Number division. But I do have the power to end your farce."

"Should I take care of him?" Bismarck asked.

"No," Marianne replied, smiling cruelly. "He thinks I'm useless. So how would you like to die by my hand? A knightmare duel? Fancy a fight with the Flash? Think you have a chance? Did you know you can jam the ejection method? It would be an expensive coffin, perfect for someone of your standing."

Fortescue paled and his struggles ceased.

"Maybe a simple gun shot? Why, I think I still have some of the bullets Charles gave me. Would that be sufficient for someone of your standing? I know! Beheading. Back to the old fashioned roots. So what do you choose?" she finished cheerfully.

The soldiers took a hesitant step away from Fortescue while the wide-eyed one stared at her in admiration.

"Kn—knightmare du— Knightmare duel," said Fortescue.

She shot him. Bullets were infinitely more efficient and she didn't have the time to toy with him. Her son was out there, waiting.

He stared at her in disbelief as he crumpled to the ground.

"That bullet was nothing special." Turning her attention from the moaning and bleeding body, she glared at the soldiers and snapped, "Attention! And shut your mouth. You're soldiers, not fly catchers."

The wide eyed soldier's ears turned bright red. The trio snapped to a textbook attention with only the Number fumbling momentarily.

"You are invested in saving your friend?"

They had shown initiative and she had promised Nunnally to not harm his friends, which she suspected they were... even if there was a Number.

"Yes, Your Majesty," they chorused.

She would give them enough rope to save him: "You will assemble a battalion and will report directly to me. The battalion is officially authorized to take all necessary actions to capture the Count, which I will personally review. You may recruit any volunteer and structure yourself regardless of class..." Or hang themselves: "Fail, and you will be tried for treason. Any questions?"

She would find her son first and prove that they were unworthy of his loyalty. Undoubtedly, the power would go to their heads and they would devolve into an incoherent mess.

The Number dared to ask, "Your Majesty?"

Dipping her chin, she didn't bother with a reply.

"Hypothetically, if some _misplaced_ soldiers rejoined, would they face repercussions?"

Of course her son's friend had connections with deserters. At least this way, she wouldn't need to bother hunting them down afterwards for the executions.

"Any volunteers. If you need the local baker, be my guest. I expect results." They nodded. "You are dismissed."

They fled and through the thin tent she could hear the bony boy say, "I'm not sure if she wants to kill us or expects us to hang the moon."

The soldier laughed nervously. "She's terrifying, but I'm not complaining. Plan A is officially cancelled so my family won't disown me."

"Like I cared. We should probably stop Frederick before he's caught though."

"She said battalion, right?" The Number asked. "Or can we interpret that as finding as many people we can?"

Their voices drifted further away and Marianne raised an eyebrow at York.

He shrugged and leaned back. "They're all irrational where your son is concerned. And you did threaten to kill me if Lelouch was harmed... so I may have promised to turn a blind eye to any rescue attempts, Your Majesty."

"This entire division is being withdrawn to get proper training," she muttered as she ran through everything she would need to do.

"That would probably be for the best. Most of the Numbers were thrown here with a week of training. I can never figure out if they're missing on purpose, their guns are broken, or they have no idea how to fire a gun. Your Majesty."

Why had she ever consented to this ridiculous sham in the first place? Right, because Lelouch attracted assassins... and now, apparently terrorists. He was going to give her gray hairs.

Her phone rang. Charles. She picked up. "He's alive. But we need to talk about the army."

* * *

**A Cell**

Lelouch stared into the endless darkness, feeling a tear slide down his cheek. He had no chance of escape, not when the Count knew what a valuable prisoner he was. Still... he had no doubt that she would mail his cold body to his mother if he became too much of a hassle to control. Never had he felt so helpless.

No.

Trapped in the nightmare, unable to do anything, he felt despair.

His body had become a prison, leaving no room to flee.

He could remember seeing Art through the drug induced haze watching him as his body acted out motions from the past. Not listening to his mind scream.

Trapped.

And then... the disconnect between reality and memory vanished. He couldn't rationalize. Think. Or distract himself. Utterly at the mercy of the drug.

Lelouch shivered and he took a deep steadying breath. Every muscle ached, but it was a welcome pain. He prodded his fresh scabs and stretched out his arms and legs. The pain kept the memories at bay.

He was a coward. A captive. A weakling.

He didn't want to see his sister lying helplessly on the ground under a maelstrom of bullets or Edgar's dying moments.

When the Count came again with the vile poison what would he do? His chest constricted at the mere thought of the substance coursing through his veins. How much more could he take?

Even if he escaped, he wore the uniform of a Crow. He had ordered Alex to save the others. A prince should never have let themselves be captured.

The least he could do was keep resisting with every breath he took. Keep toying the line between survival and denial.

But he didn't want to remember Suzaku's face as they trudged past the mounds of dead... Or the Emperor staring at him while covered in blood.

What had that memory been?

Had he suppressed the assassination attempt? And the drug forced those memories back to the surface? Yet, he remembered everything else so clearly, while that memory of the assassin pausing and insinuating she had use for his sister, that memory was unclear.

Perhaps it was a nightmare? A manifestation of a deep fear of his? It made no sense.

Why had his younger self been so relaxed?

Why was his head screaming every time he considered the impression of a bird.

Lelouch forced his eyes shut and took another deep breath.

Escape.

If he wanted to survive, he needed to focus on what was important. Food. Water. Mobility.

Right now? Lelouch was unbound, but his stomach gnawed, his throat was parched and raw, and he had no doubt that his legs would not allow him to stand.

The water dripped.

Lelouch groaned.

He hated it. Always, always, dripping. And the dark. Crushing solitude.

And the boredom... He was terribly bored and without anything to think of? The pain was constant and his father's face covered in spatters of blood stared down at him as—

No.

Two, four, eight, sixteen, thirty-two, sixty-four...

He covered his ears and pressed against the wall. Even then, the water continued to drip.

If his father saw him now, he would be disappointed… or livid. Because Lelouch had given up. He didn't have the energy to stand up and pull at the lock. A prince never bowed their head, but he had learned to when he began this charade.

He yearned to be just Lelouch like at the shrine with no secrets between him and Suzaku. His friend never cared that he was a prince and there were no lies between them.

But that wasn't true. Lelouch had known Britannia would invade Japan. It had always been a question of when. Had he been honest, he would have told Suzaku and explained the rules of a War of Conquest. Revealed that Britannia was mass producing knightmare frames.

Lelouch had been a coward even then and if only he had betrayed his father, who didn't care for him, then they would have had a chance. He and Suzaku wouldn't have walked through the mass grave where dead eyes—

Backwards from one-hundred by seven, perhaps?

One-hundred, ninety-three, eighty-six, seventy-nine, seventy-two, sixty-five, fifty-nine, no, fifty-eight, fifty-one, forty-four...

Lelouch chuckled. He was going to have memorized a ridiculous chain of numbers by the time he was free.

What number was he on?

The door creaked. The light flicked on. Lelouch blinked and turned away.

"Hey, I brought you some water," Art whispered as he sat down beside him. "Come on."

Lelouch grabbed the water bottle with trembling hands and spilled half of it. Art said nothing, simply dabbing at the water with a towel and pressing the bottle back into his hands.

"She wants to see me again?" Lelouch asked.

"No... Brie is busy."

"You know that's a cheese, right?" A cough wracked his body and he took a shallow breath. "Need to make sure I didn't die, then?"

Art frowned and his eyes flicked back to the open door. "I see you still have your mouth."

"Not the first to have that complaint."

"Like your father?" Art asked tentatively.

Lelouch froze. How much had Art inferred from Lelouch's hallucinations? He had been there in the cell with him as he relieved his worst memories... and if his body had moved... then his mouth had probably as well.

How would Art use it against him?

Art sighed. "Empress Marianne arrived in Area Two. She's taken command of the army in the Area and has been executing officers for incompetence." He paused. "The people love her and our information network is in pieces."

"My friends?" Lelouch asked, putting aside the obvious question why Art was giving him hope that he would be rescued. Maybe he just wanted to crush it afterwards. If the OSI hadn't found the Count before, there was little reason why they would suddenly discover the truth even with his mother snarling at their backs.

"I don't know," Art said and as he turned away, softly added, "The Count is going to lose."

Oh.

"Can I write to my sister first? I want to tell her goodbye," Lelouch asked.

Nunnally deserved better than a dead brother, but maybe he could soften the blow. Death felt almost appealing. It would bring everything to an end. No more pain. No more memories. No endless questions.

But she would be so upset.

Art groaned. "I despise you."

Lelouch flinched.

"You always—Single most annoying person I've met. You broke my tail light trying to escape. You broke my nose!"

"Sorry?" Lelouch replied, hoping to appease his captor.

Art grumbled and buried his face. Quietly, he asked, "Do you think she killed Oliver?"

The friend... her brother.

Art sagged and his voice was tired and broken. "You think she was behind Truro... and I remember her being busy that day. Sending me away. And then... she has her music box on the mantle. I don't—I don't—it's the same box and I checked and it has photos... and I know she likes to take them, but they're all dead... and I only knew about some of them."

Frowning, Lelouch pondered his reply. He didn't want to anger Art who was working himself up, but he didn't know how to calm him down either.

"Damn it!" Art jumped up and began to pace. "I don't know what to think. I know her. I know her! We've been friends for years and I always did as she asked. But now... She promised she wouldn't change and then I thought maybe it was from acting like nobility all the time, but you!"

He pointed his finger at Lelouch who inched back.

"You should be a spoiled little brat, yet all you seem to care about is your friends and your sister! The Numbers like you. I've been trying to get them to mutiny or sabotage or desert or something for months... and you disappear and they do it for you!"

His friends did what, now?

Were they alright? Surely, they weren't idiotic enough to commit treason for him.

"And now you're worried about them because of course you are, while Brigit doesn't flinch as your mother seems to intend to actually bathe the streets in blood." He ran his hands through his hair and stared up at the ceiling. "I'm going to die."

Well... That had a tendency to happen to terrorists. If they sent his body to his mother... there might not be an Area Two when she was done.

"She's going to kill me..."

Yes, his mother would.

Art suddenly grabbed his arm and hoisted Lelouch to his feet. "Come on."

"What are you doing?" Lelouch rasped.

"Congratulations. Today's escape attempt is going to be successful."

Art was letting him go? Lelouch took a shaky step forward and crumpled.

Cursing, Art draped Lelouch over his shoulders and stumbled out of the cellar. And up the stairs. Past the bathroom. Through the hallways.

Lelouch was going to be free. He wasn't going to die.

"Wait," he said.

Art stared at him incredulously. "We don't have that much time."

"This is a noble house, right? You need to erase the security footage. Turn it all off or else, she'll know."

"Security footage? We didn't install anything," Art said and took another step forward.

Was Art serious?

"Every noble house is bugged."

"Who bugs their own house?" He groaned. "Right. I checked the security room, there's nothing there. We're fine, kid."

"No. That's for basic stuff and normal security servants are trusted with. Is there a TV? Maybe one that never works?"

Muttering to himself, Art turned around, confirming there was indeed a TV that didn't work. Awkwardly, they ascended the stairs and he deposited Lelouch on a couch while he glared at the TV sitting in the corner.

"Ok. If you're right, how does this work?"

Lelouch shrugged. "Every family would be different. Probably a passcode, but don't know what the Count would have set it to."

Shaking his head, Art grabbed the remote and began punching random numbers. At the fifth try, the TV flicked to life. "Really?"

"What was it?"

"The Viscount's knight's birthday. Never thought that would be important."

Then the Count hadn't known? Lelouch frowned. Roy had insinuated that his family's house was bugged, so surely, the concept wasn't that foreign. Or maybe it was because they had business dealings with nobles and thus learned the hard way. Still, for the Count to make such a mistake... she wasn't integrated with nobility despite the title she obviously held.

So how had she known who he was?

Art flicked through the recording files, stopping at one in particular and watched in frozen silence. On screen, the Count entered the dreaded room and put a small music box on the mantle.

The timestamp was the day of the attack.

"How do—How do I delete everything?" Art choked out.

Lelouch could tell him and had intended to. He didn't need the Count to catch him right after he escaped the mansion.

But now?

Art felt betrayed. He was questioning everything, and Lelouch... Lelouch was angry. His friends could be dead. His sister had to be out of her mind with worry. His mother was killing people, undoubtedly innocents among them.

He had a chance to end everything. And what sort of person would he be if he didn't take the opportunity? Even if it risked Art turning around and throwing him back into the cell with Lelouch being too weak to resist. He didn't want to go back and hear the relentless drip or relive his worst memories for the Count's version of punishment.

Yet, he had a chance. The only thing it cost was his pride and chance to escape. But to succeed, he would need to see people as tools.

Like his father… Like York.

"Art? Do you have a phone I could use?"

Art swallowed and gestured to the TV. "We need to leave. I don't know when she'll return. You can call your family and friends later. You said I should erase it."

"No, Art." _Use the subject's name to build to trust_. "Brie hurt you. You didn't want to do those things, but she made you." _Reinforce the idea that the subject isn't guilty._ "You are a good person, aren't you?" _Appeal to values_. "And I don't want her to hurt anyone else."

Sagging, Art set down the remote and stared at him. "Look, just help me get you out of here."

Lelouch forced himself to sit upright despite every protesting muscle and joint. "We can leave... and she'll hurt more people, but..."

And there was a desperate hope in Art's eyes.

"But we can also stop her. Save people's lives. All those innocent people who never did anything wrong and just are living their lives... What do you think she'll do when she realizes she is losing? When she finds me gone and without anyone to turn her anger on."

Pausing, Lelouch felt a dawning sense of horror. What would she do? The Count wasn't like York as he thought in the beginning. They were similar, but she was more prone to angry outbursts and didn't accept the idea of defeat. York thought defeat was amusing, a challenge. The Count didn't comprehend defeat and instead sought to annihilate her opponents.

Best case scenario, she would try to assassinate his sister in revenge and then kill Lelouch himself.

She also had such a penchant for explosives...

Art was silent, but his were wide and Lelouch knew he had come to the same conclusion.

"How much explosives does she have? Wherever we are right now? Or does she keep them elsewhere?" Lelouch asked.

"We're in Halifax," Art whispered and turned back to the monitor where empty rooms cycled back and forth. "She just got a shipment from the E.U. yesterday. They'll be under a different manifest, but... I only know it by its code name."

Of course the E.U. was involved. Arming a terrorist to weaken Britannia was a perfect opportunity for them and explosives had a tendency to destroy the evidence of where they came from.

"Art, I need a phone," Lelouch ordered.

"You can stop her?" Art asked frantically as he pulled out a small cellphone. "She'll destroy... everything."

"How much?" Lelouch asked and narrowed his eyes at the monitor as a lone servant walked through a hallway.

"Almost the entire ship. Picric acid and benzol. I bribed the inspector and the ship would be docked in the harbor."

The city would have to be evacuated and Lelouch had to move fast before the Count realized and just detonated the ship out of pettiness. Lelouch dialed the number he never thought he would. The phone rang for a moment and Art watched him in confusion.

The operator, one of countless, answered on the other line. But they weren't important. Nor was his scratching throat or weak body. He didn't know how large Halifax was, but it was one of the Empire's major shipping areas due to the sheltered bay. Thousands of people could die.

"OLB12599," he barked.

"Voice identification. Match. Name?"

"Lelouch vi Britannia."

The operator passed him through. "Orders?"

And now he, dressed in the uniform of a Crow, was an agent of the Emperor. "Which division is closest to Halifax?"

"The 318th, 256th, 712th, and 83rd are all within a day's reach."

"I'm taking command of the 712th, patch me through."

The operator was silent for a moment. "Empress Marianne has special orders for the division in particular. Her authorization is above yours."

Had she hurt his friends? But like his parents who ordered the invasion of Japan, he couldn't let personal feelings get in the way. At least he wasn't risking the lives of his non-existent children… only his friends.

"Patch me through to the 318th. Also... tell Empress Marianne to contact me when it is convenient."

"I will pass the message along to Her Majesty. Patching you through to the 318th."

After a brief wait, an old male voice answered. "Major General Arkansas, speaking. May I know who I have the honor of serving in His Majesty's name?"

Lelouch flinched. His Majesty's name. His father had given him such power, but it came with a price. He was just a pawn. And maybe it was petty, but Lelouch didn't want to say his name. The Major General would have been delighted to hear he served a prince and then everyone would know. There was no way to silence the troops and they would know that a mysterious commander had taken charge.

Everyone would know Lelouch... and if he had to return to the royal court, away from all his friends, then he'd have to subject himself to their curiosity. They would ask questions. And what could Lelouch say?

He was a coward who hadn't dared to take charge earlier? He was a weakling captured by the Count and needed his father's power to save himself?

OLB12599. Without it... he was worthless.

The Major General was waiting. "You may call me Zero."

"Yes, sir. What are your orders Zero?"

Lelouch covered the receiver and turned to Art who was staring at him dumbfounded. "She is in town?"

"Or trying to kill your mother," Art confirmed.

Lelouch nodded. "Major General Arkansas. I want the city, Halifax encircled. Coordinate with other divisions if need be, but no one leaves without being screened and no one enters who hasn't been confirmed as military personnel. The Count is either in the city, or will be returning soon. She will not escape us today."

"She, Zero?"

"Brigit Meblourne ne Buteau, Viscount of the Iceplains," Art whispered, looking ill.

Lelouch relaid her identity along with a basic description. On the TV, a figure dressed in black wandered down the hallway. They were not a servant. "Inform me immediately if the situation changes."

He hung up and gestured at the TV.

Art's eyes narrowed and pulled out a gun. "That's the fuse box."

The room was plunged into darkness and Lelouch clenched his fists because he was not back in the cell, waiting endlessly as the water dripped. He wasn't there, even if the darkness around him was beckoning. Even if the rope was digging into his wrists.

"Lelouch?" Art whispered. "I need you to breathe."

He took a shaky breath and then another. Weakly, he joked, "What kind of idiot doesn't have emergency power?"

"We do," Art said and his footsteps brushed over the carpeted floor. "Lelouch. Get down on the ground. Don't want to shoot you by accident."

His body still ached, but he nodded and lowered himself to the ground. If only he wasn't wearing a Crow's uniform. This had to be an OSI raid and Lelouch risked getting caught in the cross-fire.

The door banged open and three cracking gun shots, before a painful cry as Art fell to the ground.

"Where's Lelouch?" Henry asked between the sounds of fists striking flesh.

What was he doing there? Henry was not an OSI agent last time he checked.

"Henry, stop!" Lelouch ordered.

"Lelouch?"

"Yes. What the hell are you doing here?" he asked and Art let out a painful groan. "I need him alive."

"He kidnapped you," Henry pointed out. "And why are you in a Crow uniform?"

The darkness pulsed and Lelouch took another steadying breath. He hated not being able to see. "Henry, lights please?"

Henry groaned but flicked on a flashlight and finally Lelouch could see his friend with night vision goggles hanging from his neck. He was alive. His mother hadn't killed him. But why was he here? Why alone? And how had he found him?

Dropping the flashlight, Henry pulled Art to his feet and glowered at Lelouch. "Why are you in a Crow uniform?"

Bile rose within his stomach as he thought of her threatening to take a finger. It had been for Nunnally. She would have been so terribly upset at being mailed a finger, but Henry was still glaring at him and maybe, he had done the wrong thing. He was a prince and should never have bowed his head. He had been weak.

"Long story," Lelouch grumbled. "How did you—?"

"—You gave some lady a hundred pounds and your dog tag and told her she'd get twice that if she helped," Henry said. "Which, by the way, was all my cash."

Art muttered something about his taillight again, confirming it did happen although Lelouch had no recollection. Was that why he lost his boots with his emergency kit?

Henry stepped closer. "And your explanation?"

"Always shoot first, ask questions later," Art mocked. "Didn't betray you, moron."

"You drugged me," Henry said and jerked him to the side, "I should kill you."

"What's stopping you? Afraid of the big bad Crow?"

"Shut your mouth." Henry kneed him as Art took a deep breath.

"Henry," Lelouch said, raising his arms, "I need Art and he's not going to do anything. Everything is fine. Calm down."

"Why do you have a phone?" Henry asked.

Lelouch swallowed.

Why couldn't Henry have shown up an hour earlier and broken into his cell when everything was clear. Now, he was waiting for a call back from his mother and any updates from Major General Arkansas. He had a Count to capture and a city to save. He didn't have time for Henry to suspect him of being a traitor.

"Art gave me the phone so I could call for help. I'm still your superior, so let me be clear. You're going to let him go and step outside. There is no other exit out of this room so you can be assured that I will not slip past you, but you're going to step outside."

Why was Henry forcing him to pull rank? They were supposed to be friends who looked out for each other.

Henry straightened and in the scant light, Lelouch observed his clothes without a single identifying mark and the expensive night vision goggles. The equipment was not from the army and then he confirmed it. "My orders outrank yours. Lelouch Lamperouge, you will accompany me peacefully, otherwise I'll arrest you for treason."

Art burst into laughter.

"What are you laughing at Crow!"

Lelouch shook his head. He didn't want to tell Henry who he was and ruin whatever friendship they had... but then Henry was obviously not who he claimed to be. "This was a planned operation. If you must, you can check my authorization code."

"Right." Henry looked at him as if he were an idiot. "Doesn't matter, my orders outrank yours. Last chance, Lelouch... Please don't make me do this."

Outrank his? Henry hadn't even thought to verify the statement. There was always someone of a higher rank. And then...

Lelouch chuckled.

"Lelouch?" Henry asked hesitantly.

Their friendship had been a lie. Sitting down on the couch, he shook his head. "You're a damn unspeakable."

"How—How do you know that?" Henry asked.

"I thought unspeakables were a myth... and didn't talk," Art muttered. "No wonder you didn't go down."

Lelouch laughed. "No. They're not. Perfectly legal if you're the Emperor. Of course, nobody would dare to tell him no. So, what did he order? Kill me if I step out of line? If I'm not his perfect little pawn?"

Eyeing him as if he was a rabid dog,—and Lelouch sure felt like one now that he had accepted his role as an agent of the Emperor himself—Henry said, "No. His Majesty ordered me to protect your well being along with reporting on your activities. He was very displeased when you broke your collarbone. Why does the Emperor take such interest in you?"

Lelouch sneered. "Maybe because he doesn't want to upset my mother. Not that the bastard would ever care."

"Did you just call—" Henry groaned. "Your mother?"

Art cleared his throat and glared at him. "We're a little short on time so maybe you can clear this up?" He paused. "No? Fine. Moron, who is also an unspeakable, which is apparently a thing and not a myth, meet Lelouch vi Britannia and I didn't believe he was a prince either, but apparently he is. Now, release me, idiot."

Slowly, Henry said, "Your father... is the Emperor."

Crossing his arms, Lelouch said, "Unfortunately. And I have a plan which you interrupted."

"The Emperor sent me to spy on his son... and he didn't tell me." Henry looked rather ill. "You insult your father all the time!"

Lelouch rolled his eyes and glanced down at the vibrating phone. "I need to find stress relief somewhere."

"You insulted the Emperor... and I told him."

Lelouch ignored him and answered the phone.

"Lelouch?" his mother hesitantly asked.

Ignoring the sudden lump in his throat, Lelouch said, "Hello, Mother."

"You're alive," she said, relieved. "You're fine. I thought it was a fluke... or maybe the Count using your code. But it's you. Where are you? I'm taking you home right now."

Home. Where was home?

"What did you do to my friends?"

She sighed. "They're fine although one of them seems to have run off. I'm not going—"

"—He's here actually. Apparently, he is an Unspeakable."

Cheerfully, she said, "That's great, he can return you home and hope Charles forgives him for losing you in the first place."

Glancing back at Henry who still hadn't overcome his shock but was tying up Art, Lelouch frowned. The Emperor would kill his friend, and they were friends despite the lies between them. Everything couldn't have been a lie? Some part of their friendship had to have been real and for that part...

Lelouch would ensure his friend survived. In memory of the experiences they shared.

"Mother, I'm taking command. If you're not fighting the Count, then she's in Halifax. I need the division to evacuate the city and make sure she doesn't escape."

"But, Lelouch—"

"—No. I have information on the Count, at least once Henry turns on the power again"—Lelouch glared at him who took the hint and slinked out of the room—"and I am best situated to end this situation once and for all. We need to capture... or eliminate the Count now otherwise more people will die. Please... just trust me."

His mother sighed. "Fine. But, Lelouch? You will stay safe. I will not lose you again."

"Of course," Lelouch whispered. "Can you take charge of the encirclement and make sure the citizens are evacuated in an orderly fashion."

"Evacuated?"

No. He wasn't going to tell her. Because while he hoped to be wrong, he knew. And it hurt.

"I'm not holding a military operation in a city filled with civilians, Mother. I doubt the Count will try to flee that way, but Major General Arkansas has her description anyway... I'll see you soon. Now, patch me through."

His mother sighed. "You have six hours. Stay safe."

She finally patched him through.

Lelouch leaned back as the lights flicked back on. In the corner, Art sat with his arms bound behind his back. He scowled as Henry trekked back inside and Lelouch took a deep breath. He hadn't dared to ask more about his friends in the vain hope that they would slip beneath her attention. But then she was already aware of them... which didn't bode well for them having escaped her ire.

Slowly, he began to greet each battalion and asked for a status report.

And finally, as he heard from the last battalion and barked orders, someone hesitantly asked, "Lelouch?"

Lelouch closed his eyes. Of course they would recognize his voice and did he want them to know he was Zero? Because now on the radio, he wasn't their friend, but their commander and an agent of the Emperor. But they had to have been worried for him and it would be so cruel to pretend he wasn't.

"Yes, Alex. I'm fine. I'm glad you're alright. How is the squad?" Lelouch answered, not caring about all the regulations he was ignoring.

"We're all fine, 'cept Henry who deserted. Actually... well. We barely escaped decimation and then we sort of ran into Empress Marianne"—How did someone sort of run into his mother?—"and I think she's mad at us, but I'm not sure because she didn't execute us, although she did threaten to… and executed Fortescue and demoted most of the officers."

Good riddance.

"So we need to catch the Count or we're all dead. I guess we don't need to rescue you anymore?" Alex paused. "The original plan was we'd find ya and see if ya have a plan or take ya and run to tough it out in the wild."

"Plausible deniability, please?" Lelouch groaned and Henry was most definitely smirking at him from the doorway. "Who's we?"

A long silence. "Technically a batallion. All volunteers who wanted to rescue you."

"Technically?"

"We had a lot of volunteers. More than the Empress probably expected, but most of us were gonna be executed anyway for desertion or mutiny so... Figured this is the best chance to save everyone's hide... Half the division?"

"That's not a batallion," Lelouch countered while wondering what the hell had happened in his absence. Half the division? He definitely never had the opportunity to meet them all. "Fine. Give me a run down on all the platoons. Your priority is removing the civilians. They're going to be hostile to what they see as Numbers, but don't use force if you can avoid it. No need to start pointing weapons."

"Evacuations? I'll put Roy on it. He has the best people skills."

"Prioritize the harbor. Tell them there's a chance to see Empress Marianne. She'll be outside the city taking in civilians. But, I'm going to need three companies to head to the harbor and check the cargo for explosives... Ask for volunteers first to capture the Count. The mission is high risk."

Should he say more?

"That's a lot of boats, Lelouch."

Art sighed and hobbled closer. "Tell them they're looking for a freighter. It will have a new coat of paint, probably to mask it's French origins."

Lelouch nodded and relayed the information and added, "She won't be unloaded yet, so she should be sitting pretty low in the water. They should expect to run into the Count... And have them stop by the broadcast station and pick up some video cameras. If the Count kills herself, I want proof that she's dead."

Switching back to Zero, the efficient agent of the Emperor, Lelouch did not let himself dwell on what he hadn't said to his friends. They were mostly safe by helping the evacuation efforts, but he couldn't let himself be bogged down with concern. The Count had to be caught... or half a Division would be dead and his mother did not bluff. In her desperation to find him, she gave them the opportunity to rescue him and catch the Count, but expected them to fail.

Perhaps it would have been kinder to execute them outright instead of laying a honeyed trap where every soldier who harbored treasonous thoughts would come running. And even if they caught the Count, would she honor her promise? Many of them had deserted according to Alex which was an automatic death sentence. The capture of the Count wouldn't erase their crime.

And to capture the Count? Or rather, ensure her death was certain, for she would not allow herself to be captured, Lelouch would have to gamble with lives... Actually, there was no gamble. To win, he had to lose.

Minimum casualties.

And hadn't he blamed Fortescue for suicidal orders?

Lelouch switched the TV to the local three company's cameras were rolling as they approached the docks and began to search the ships. Next to him, Art looked at each ship and shook his head.

"Zero, we've engaged with Crows on Fourth and Baker's. They're retreating to the docks. Over."

"Company R-1, circle to the docks and coordinate with R-2 to prevent the Crows from reaching the docks. Over" Switching channels, he said, "R-3, continue your search. Over."

They followed his orders.

"There!" Art shouted and nodded at the TV.

"R-3, board the _White Mountain_. Detain the crew. You have permission to fire upon any hostiles." Switching back, he said, "R-1. You're chasing a decoy. Send a platoon to make sure they don't disappear. Meet with R-2 and march towards R-3's position."

And he had done it.

Art grimaced. He understood.

"Update on evacuations?" Lelouch asked. The harbor had been cleared in a two mile radius, but it was infeasible to evacuate a city of half a million.

The _White Mountain_ raised its anchor as the two companies approached. They were out of time.

Lelouch ordered all the troops to withdraw and sent out an emergency broadcast for any remaining citizens to shelter in their basements. It was better than nothing. Finally, he opened a line to R-3. "Have you found the Count? Over."

"Platoon Bravo, here. Found the Count at the stern. Over," replied the familiar voice of Lance Corporal Villalba who was an avid cook and taught Lelouch how to make an empanada. Back home, he had three kids and an aging grandmother with accumulating medical expenses. He joined the army to pay her bills while his wife and children worked odd jobs to pick up the remaining slack. And Lelouch was about to sentence him to his death.

"I need your platoon to get a visual. Broadcast the Count."

Minutes later, the Count's visage filled the TV screen. Her eyes were hard and the Crows around her fired back. She had lost. And she knew it.

Bullets ricocheted off metal walls and embedded into the barrels of benzol. And then it happened.

One barrel burst into flames. Another exploded and belched putrid smoke.

Art turned away.

"All platoons beside Bravo, abandon ship. Take the rowboats. Over." Lelouch waited a moment before opening a line to Lance Corporal Villalba. "I'll make sure your family will be fine. Everyone's family."

"Gosling?" he confirmed.

"I'm sorry," Lelouch whispered back. "If you kill the Count, then you may abandon ship. But until then make sure the camera keeps rolling. That is your priority."

He needed proof that the Count was dead... otherwise, he would have ordered them to evacuate already... but if there was any chance the Count survived, then it would be so much harder to save the rest of the division from his mother's wrath.

Twelve-thousand men for thirty... It should be easy.

Why did it hurt?

"Yes, sir. Keep the division safe, will you? And tell my family... tell them I went out in a blaze of glory."

"It will be memorialized on video, but I will." Somehow, he would find his way to Area Seven and through the ghettos to apologize. It was the least he could. "It was an honor knowing you."

"And it was an honor to serve you, sir. Shame that it couldn't have been for longer. See you in the next life. Over."

The line cut and Lelouch watched as fire spread and barrels exploded. His men ducked behind the walls to avoid gunfire, while keeping the camera roiling.

Some hugged. Others cried. He couldn't look away. He had sent them all to death.

There was Jon, who had named him "gosling," pulling out a flask—knowing Jon, filled with beer—and then saluting the camera, mockingly, before he took a sip. He had been so hostile to Britannia and Lelouch knew that if Jon had the chance, he would have betrayed Britannia in a heartbeat, yet he stayed to eliminate the Count.

"Lelouch." Art sighed. "You're Henry, right? We need to go to the cellar."

"Don't need to listen to you, Crow," Henry snarled back.

The fire was licking the walls and the crates. The Count's eyes widened. Had she expected to escape? Or did she always intend to go out in a blaze of glory. She turned to the camera and smirked. A fire of crimson then.

Her mouth began to move, undoubtedly giving a big speech meant to rouse the masses. She was martyring herself instead of accepting defeat. But there was no audio and the only one who could hear her were his men.

They fired on her and she ducked out of the way.

Temperatures had to be skyrocketing. Would they die first by cremation? Or by the detonation of picric acid in the hold.

"There's a shit ton of explosives, so unless we all want to die, we're going to the cellar," Art said.

"I need to watch," Lelouch whispered. To see the consequences of his actions. To never forget what he had done. This was all his fault.

Henry grunted and pulled him. "Damn. You're light. And no, you don't. Much as I hate to agree with the Crow, we need to go. We're... out of time."

Lelouch didn't have the energy to resist, but his gaze lingered on the TV until the door slammed shut. The cellar was just as dark and filthy as he remembered. The water continued to drip.

Water was evil.

Reports filtered through the phone as his men reported their safe returns to the outskirt of the city. A deafening blast of thunder shook the house. Dust shook from the ceiling as glass and ceramics shattered.

Lance Corporal Villalba was dead and so were twenty-nine of his men, Jon among them.

Alex screamed through the phone, "We did it! The Count's dead!"

Other voices chimed in agreement. Eager and happy. Exuberant.

Lelouch was tired. Exhausted. In agony. His lungs expanded and collapsed, but the air was never enough. He wished to curl up and sleep.

But sleep meant nightmares.

Especially now.

Lelouch had sacrificed lives to reach his goal. Maybe if he had been sharper, he would have found another way. A way to save all the lives... or at least not purposefully sent out men to their deaths. That was what Fortescue had done. Platoon after platoon. Thrown away like garbage.

Thirty-men dead on his orders.

His back shuddered and a tear trailed down his face. Joined by another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Thoughts
> 
> -The Halifax Explosion is a real historical event which occurred Dec 6, 1917. The Mont-Blanc was secretly carrying explosives from New York, stopping in Halifax, and intended to head to Bordeaux, France. At the time, it was the largest human made explosion. For alternate history reasons, this event never had the opportunity to happen before.
> 
> -My Area Two has a large amount of French influence (if the names didn't tip you off) which made the French very eager to help since they still consider Area Two/Canada as their rightful territory.
> 
> -Fortescue is a descendant of Charles Cornwallis. Cornwallis was the one to surrender to American forces at the siege of Yorktown. Surprisingly, he was made Viceroy of Ireland (tech, Lord Lieutenant) and India. He was also well respected enough that the UK sent him to sign a peace treaty with Napoleon.
> 
> Author's Note
> 
> This chapter was evil to write and edit.
> 
> Onto housekeeping:
> 
> Structure wise, Excalibur is three books (even if book one is apparently 200k+). Unless everyone screams at me to keep it as one fic, I've decided to post each book as separate fic.
> 
> Separating it into different books does mean that I will be retitling this story as I believe Excalibur is the name of the entire story/series, I have planned. I will also be changing my summary, mostly because I'm of the opinion that my current one is garbage.
> 
> New Proposed Title: A Sword Forged by Stone
> 
> And two possible summaries:
> 
> By what right does Britannia govern? So ask the terrorists as they take up arms. So asks the JLF as they fight for their culture. So ask two young royals as they try to step out of the Emperor's shadow. Or: Marianne vi Britannia survived and things sort of snowballed from there. Unfortunately, life isn't any easier. Book 1 of Excalibur
> 
> Or:
> 
> Lelouch's mother may have survived, but the Emperor still sees him as a pawn. It doesn't matter if he submits or fights for his independence, Lelouch's hands will be sullied by blood. His father's will is absolute and Britannia rests on the graves of innocents. Book 1 of Excalibur
> 
> Thoughts? (I already spent way too much time culling my 7 brainstormed summaries to two and I totally didn't flip a coin)  
See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	35. Saturn or Kronos?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: Lelouch's mother may have survived, but the Emperor still sees him as a pawn. It doesn't matter if he submits or fights for his independence, Lelouch's hands will be sullied by blood. His father's will is absolute and Britannia rests on the graves of innocents. Book 1 of Excalibur

_ **May 11, 1994** _

_Guinevere's party was over the top and insane. She seemed to have invited the entire nobility and more amazingly they actually seem to have come. Even Emperor Brandon vi Britannia was there, even if he spent the entire time on the opposite side of the room and glaring at my father. Actually, that could be Father's fault as well. But both are honoring their shaky truce._

_Guinevere is amazing though. At eight years old she is traversing the political minefield with ease. She is perfectly capable of being polite and kind and soothing any ruffled feathers. I must admit I'm rather envious of her. And while it is subtle, Father is definitely smiling when he is looking at her. She is useful to him and I'm suddenly wondering what my purpose is. How can I make Father proud?..._

—_Excerpts from Odysseus's Journal_

* * *

**Shinjuku, Area 11**

In the space between waking and dreaming, Suzaku recovered his hearing first. The soft murmur of incoherent voices, but strangely comforting. The excited babbling of a child. And the distant clamor of a world moving on while he lay, unmoving.

Next came the sense of touch. The light weight of fabric draped over his body and wrapping him in a familiar hug. The gentle draft shifting his hair. The warmth of a hand clasped around his own.

Afterwards, smell. The familiar, acidic scent of soy mixed among sharper bitter smells and something sweet. Smoggy excess from the world at large. And the mouth watering aroma of meat simmering.

His stomach grumbled and he opened his eyes.

The warm hand pulled free and Tohdoh reached out to touch his cheek. Hesitantly, he asked, "Suzaku?"

He sounded so broken and scared and Suzaku felt so guilty... because he had caused this. He remembered now, how in a moment of weakness, he plunged the trigger and let Refrain course through his body. How could he have been so selfish?

His actions had hurt others.

He whispered, "I'm sorry—"

What was he supposed to call Tohdoh? Father? Sensei? Sama?

Tohdoh grabbed his hand again, but leaned back and pinned him with a disappointed gaze. "Why? We were so worried and you— I don't understand why you would risk your life, Suzaku. Refrain is incredibly dangerous and I— We thought we lost you."

And Suzaku hadn't thought it was possible to feel even more guilty. Ko... Had he even understood what Suzaku had done? And Chiba and Tohdoh would have blamed themselves for Suzaku's mistakes... And why?

Why had he succumbed to his weakness?

"Because"—tears were forming in his eyes—"I wanted to see Father again."

Tohdoh pulled him into a hug. "I'm so sorry, but you know he won't come back? It's not worth the risk. I'll find some pictures for you?"

"I didn't see him," Suzaku whispered, ashamed. Refrain brought back the happiest memories, but— "I only saw his kimono."

"Oh," Tohdoh said and fell silent while Suzaku prepared himself for the question that would reveal he was an awful son. "What did you see?"

Suzaku drew back and crossed his arms, unable to meet Tohdoh's eyes. "When I finally broke a board for the first time with a spin kick... and the amusement park. You gave me a popsicle."

"I remember..." Tohdoh shifted closer. "Your father kicked you out of the house because he thought you were acting too friendly with Lelouch in front of the politicians. There were two delegates from the E.U. and China there and he didn't want to seem too close with Britannia. Not when they were discussing a possible offensive strike against Britannia."

"What?" Suzaku didn't remember that. Only the disappointment at failing his father and not knowing what he did wrong. Lelouch had been there... and his father considered attacking Britannia?

"He was going to lose the election the next year so he needed good news. His plan was to secretly increase sakuradite exports to the E.U. which would lead them to attack Area Two, again. Britannia would then renegotiate the sakuradite treaties with us and he was hoping to use the goodwill garnered by fostering Lelouch and Nunnally to secure a more lucrative trade deal."

"Goodwill?" Suzaku asked because after endless shogi lessons where Tohdoh discussed his plans with the JLF and the politics at play, he knew when the truth was incomplete. Looking up at Tohdoh, he searches his face, because Suzaku's father was an honorable man and would never have—

Tohdoh smiled grimly. "Yes. With an invasion in Area Two, Britannia wouldn't have had the resources to threaten us and if they didn't agree to his terms, he would have threatened Lelouch and Nunnally."

"But—" His father was honorable.

"I'm sorry, Suzaku. It's why I was sent to Narita, even though Ko had just been born. I don't know what I would have done had Kururugi-shushou ordered me to move against Lelouch and Nunnally, but Britannia's invasion took the choice out of my hands."

Tohdoh had to be lying.

His father was honorable… but so was Tohdoh.

What was the truth?

The narrative from his childhood painted his father leading the nation to glory with pride and honor. In it, he could do no wrong. His word was absolute.

So was Lelouch's…

His father had planned to burn Japan to the ground to deny Britannia a win. Not caring for the lives that would be lost.

Tohdoh had gathered the remnants of the army and fled like a coward. He offered a sanctuary to the Japanese. Every month, the JLF grew as more people slipped into their net of contacts and more supplies disappeared from Britannian military bases.

Only one could be right…

His happiest memories were with Tohdoh and Lelouch. Tohdoh had always encouraged him and reprimanded him when he went too far, but also explained why. It was Tohdoh who comforted him and Tohdoh who brought a smile to his face.

Suzaku's father had been a damn fool. He had preached non-violence and conformity, but was willing to use Lelouch and Nunnally as pawns. Life was precious, he said, but as long as he didn't pull the trigger, the ground could be watered with blood.

A hypocrite.

And a father... who never smiled, listened, or noticed him. Who couldn't even be bothered to be there.

Ducking his head, Suzaku whispered, "I... Is it okay— I don't want to be a Kururugi anymore."

He bit his lip and waited for the harsh retaliation. A son didn't abandon his father. But Genbu Kururugi was dead and maybe Britannia only invaded because of his actions. To protect Lelouch and Nunnally.

"Suzaku," Tohdoh said softly and pulled him into a tight hug. "There will always be room for you in my family. Your heritage doesn't need to define you. You can stand outside of his shadow."

Could he?

He was betraying his father. Betraying everything he clung to. It wasn't enough to kill the man, but now, he rejected his memory as well.

"I don't know how," Suzaku whispered.

Tohdoh pulled back and stared into his eyes. "You have time. People already know you as our nephew. You can take the Chiba name and the Kururugi name will wait for when you're ready."

Hesitantly, Suzaku asked, "What if I'm never ready?"

"Then the Kururugi name will collect dust until one of your descendants brushes it off and wears it with pride."

He had time… Time to grow. Time to learn. Time to choose.

"Thank you," Suzaku said earnestly although another word burned at the tip of his tongue: father.

Tohdoh ruffled his hair. "Come on... nephew. I made some udon and Nagisa is due back in an hour with Ko from their supply run. We should freshen up before they arrive. Ko will be delighted to have his big brother back on his feet."

Suzaku nodded and stood with trembling legs. His body felt stretched and worn out, but unlike the soreness after a strenuous training session, there was no sensation of warmth or accomplishment. Only the knowledge that he made a grievous mistake... He could have died. Refrain was dangerous... and what would Ko feel if his big brother was suddenly gone?

Never again.

As he grabbed a towel, Tohdoh called out, "And Suzaku? You're grounded."

Suzaku froze. "You never grounded me! You can't ground me."

Tohdoh snorted. "And you never endangered your life before. You're grounded for the foreseeable future until I can trust you to not throw your life away. You'll be helping Nagisa with Ko and teaching everyone. I'm sure that there are plenty of kids in the area who would benefit from your martial arts tutelage."

"I can't teach!" Suzaku squeaked. "And Father never grounded me."

"You're part of my house now," Tohdoh said, smiling gently. "I told General Iki that an emergency came up so you'll have my undivided attention for the next week and I'll have time to help you with setting up classes. Maybe this will teach you to finally use your head and talk things out."

Curbing the childish retort, Suzaku stomped out of the room. He had messed up. He knew that. But grounded? How was he supposed to do his duty to Japan sitting around the house and teaching little kids?

A small weight in his pocket brought him to a stop by the counter. He reached down and pulled out his father's pocket watch. It was the last memento from the Kururugi shrine and a time long passed. The hands were frozen.

The lump of metal rested on the counter as he left the room.

* * *

**Scotia General Hospital, Area Two**

Marianne stopped in front of the impromptu cell, a converted storage room, and waved off the guards. Her son lay in a hospital bed upstairs. His skin deadly pale and painfully stretched across his bones. She couldn't bear to look at him lying helplessly as the IV provided him with essential nutrients and kept him under sedation while the ventilator kept his breathing steady.

Every six hours, they attempted to wake him, but tremors would ransack his body and he would begin to cry out in pain. She didn't know what was wrong or what the Count had done. His blood count and metabolic panel had been inconclusive, along with the various random tests she ordered, trying to figure out what could be wrong. Their only clue was an unidentified agent in his blood.

What was from malnutrition? What was making him sick?

And thus, Marianne entered the cell where the Crow waited in a straitjacket. A bruise blossomed around his eyes, but he didn't react to her presence beyond a small smirk.

He was the one who kidnapped her son... And even as he lay in the cell, he held her son's life in his hands.

"Executing me, now?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

She wished. "Your death can either be painful or swift depending on your cooperation."

He shrugged. "Guess painful it is."

According to Charles's agent, he had introduced himself as Arthur. No one had managed to dig up his real name yet and with the disorder in Area Two, it could take months. She didn't even know who she had in her cell. Whether he was important or a nameless grunt guarding her son. Still, she asked, "What's your name?"

"Always the same question. I seem to have forgotten it." His bruised face stretched into a grin. "Never had an empress visit me before. You finally looking past your nose at us common folks?"

They had caught a damn extremist. They refused to break and would lie until their execution, sending OSI agents on a pointless goose chase.

This was pointless.

She should be at her son's side.

She turned around.

Hesitantly, the Crow called out, "How's Lelouch? Would've thought he'd have seen me once. At least to gloat. He won."

"Don't! Say his name." She turned around and glared at the Crow. "You're lips are not worthy of saying his name."

"How's His Highness then?" he asked and his tone was sincere. She couldn't detect a mocking lilt... He sneered. "You must be so proud, Your Majesty. Sending off your thirteen year old son to war. And he defeated the Count!"

"Yesterday was his birthday," she whispered and she wasn't proud. Her son had been hurt... because she failed to protect him. "What did the Count give him?"

The Crow tensed, an indecipherable expression crossing his face. "Give him? Why are you asking me?"

"Because we can't wake him safely! He's barely breathing and seizes every time we try to take him off the respirator."

"But he was fine during the battle." His eyes widened. "Damn it. Six hours. The tea." He groaned. "Of course she would use it. I know I told her it was for short term use only, but why should I be surprised? She obviously didn't care."

Marianne scowled. "What did the Count do to my son?"

"In my jacket, there's a sedative. She had to have dosed him... and then the Refrain would have made it worse."

"There was no Refrain." Or if there was, she was going to execute the medical team for gross incompetence.

The Crow shook his head. "Like Refrain, but not. Has a reddish hue."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

He laughed. "I'm not helping you. I'm helping Lelouch. Knew I'd die if I saved him, but did it anyway. Would be a shame if it was all for nothing."

* * *

**Hospital Room**

Lelouch woke slowly to dim lights and the distant sound of movements. Wheels rolled over the ground. A woman shouted. Men laughed. A machine beeped. Boots struck the ground. A phone rang. Wind howled outside. No water dripped.

He lay in a soft bed with his body inclined while his right elbow felt constricted. He glanced down at the heavily taped IV. Experimentally, he flexed his right hands. His fingers were swollen... but there wasn't any pain.

No rope cutting into his wrists. No muscles burning. No bones grinding into the harsh stone floor.

He wasn't in a cell.

He hadn't dreamt his escape.

Or maybe the cell was a dream.

His memories felt detached, like the wind could whisk them away. The Count's face was a blur. The escape route he tried to memorize was nonsensical. Only one memory remained crystal clear...

The Emperor's blood spattered face staring at him

The monitor began to beep and Lelouch took a deep breath. And another one. That hadn't happened. The assassin had died by his hands, not by the Emperor's order. It was Lelouch's sword through her gut which felled her, not Bismarck's blade descending on her neck.. It had been an assassin... not an agent of the Empire intending to kidnap Nunnally.

Just a hallucination brought upon by isolation.

A nurse rushed in and began to talk. Lelouch stared out the door and spotted the guards.

Trapped.

He needed to escape.

The Count was talking to him and demanding him to obey. Her hands wrapped around his arm.

He needed to escape.

Darkness claimed him.

The next time he woke to a bright light checking his eyes and his mother waiting by his side.

"Lelouch, can you hear me?"

Was she real? Or was he in the cell?

"Yes," he rasped.

His mother reached out, but stopped short of touching him and bit her lip. "Hey. Everything is alright. Nunnally will be ecstatic to hear you're awake. Can you answer some questions for the doctor please?"

Lelouch nodded. This felt real? The doctor murmured and Lelouch responded as best as he could, not paying attention to the words. He wanted to sleep. Everything took so much energy.

"Lelouch, Lelouch," his mother whispered and touched his shoulder. He flinched. "Are you hungry?"

Hungry?

When was the last time he ate?

"No scones," he finally said.

The doctor left and passed unhindered through the door. Did that mean Lelouch could leave as well? The room felt oppressively small.

Focusing on his mother and her soft smile, he asked, "Nunnally?"

"She's still in school. She asked about you everyday."

She was fine. There was an important question on the tip of his tongue that he needed to ask. Something about the Count, yet not. His memory was sluggish. Something about fire?

The food arrived. Pureed mush in a tiny bowl. It tasted divine.

Lelouch fell asleep once more.

A bird dove through the air. The scent of blood. And the Emperor watched as people gently raised the cabinet and lifted Nunnally on a stretcher.

He sat up, his eyes roaming through the dark room and the monitor beeping. His heart rate had spiked. He needed to talk to his mother. His friends.

Three doctors attempted to calm him and convince him to lie down again. Eventually, they turned on the light and Lelouch could breathe again. They brought his mother. She looked tired with her hair in disarray, but he refused to feel guilty.

"What happened to the division?" he asked, hurriedly.

His mother waved everyone out and scowled. "You're supposed to be resting."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing yet. Calm down, Lelouch. Everyone is fine. Please, rest."

No. Sleeping meant once again seeing Edgar bleed out and die. It meant hearing the water. Smelling the mountains of dead bodies. Feeling the Count's knife dig into his neck. Seeing the Emperor's blood spattered face and purple eyes.

He swung his legs out of bed. "I need to see them. I need... I need to clean my gun. Write letters. Go to Area Seven."

"Oh, for goodness sake! Lelouch. You don't need to do anything, but rest."

He blinked. "My gun will jam if I don't take care of it."

"Please... It's three in the morning. It can wait. You just need to focus on becoming better." When he didn't move, his mother massaged her temples. "Fine. Then I'll stay with you. We can talk. Or sit in silence. But you're not running outside. Please?"

Lelouch leaned back in his bed and scratched at the tape securing the I.V. "The Count is dead?"

"Yes. All captured on tape. Charles is having a field day leaking it to the press. Everyone knows Britannia defeated the Count."

Of course the Emperor would use the situation to his advantage. Without the Count playing the media, the narrative would quickly change in Britannia's favor.

"And the division?" he asked, hesitantly.

"They defeated the Count. But, Lelouch, many of them attempted treason. I will keep my word, but if they step out of line again, there will be no mercy."

Given the circumstances, that was the best Lelouch could hope for... "What now?"

His birthday had been coming up. What role would be expected from him next? He was the Emperor's pawn.

She reached out and her fingers curled around his hand. "I'm sorry, Lelouch. I don't know... and... I know you were angry at me. Probably still are. I'm sorry for Japan. I acted too rashly. I pushed you away. If I hadn't? Then maybe we could have avoided all of this. You'd never have suffered at the Count's hands.. I love you and wanted what was best for you, but... I miscalculated. I only wanted to protect you"

If she loved him, why had she stood by? Why had she let York live so he could prowl around? York who just kept pushing and pushing until Lelouch felt like a fish, flopping aimlessly, stranded in a desert. Because of her inaction, Alex had thought it necessary to sacrifice his innocence for him and accept York's heartless tutelage. If she had done anything then Lelouch wouldn't have to stand by, unable to do anything, as Fortescue wasted their lives. He wouldn't have had to live with the terror that the next battle could be the last for him... or his friends.

And the Count wouldn't have held his life in her hands.

What kind of mother did that?

And even now... The lives of his friends were meaningless to her. She wanted to execute them for treason and if they had failed to kill the Count, to prove her death... His mother would have executed everyone.

And if she wanted to protect him then... "Why did you let me be deployed to Area Two? You had to have known I would see combat. That I could die."

"I tried, Lelouch. I really, honestly tried to get you out... but"—Lelouch prepared himself for the inevitable excuse because there was always something more important than his own wellbeing—"an assassin was targeting you."

Oh. Not only had he garnered the attention of a terrorist, but also an assassin. Someone his parents obviously were wary enough of that they considered his deployment to Area Two safer. "Who?"

"We don't know," she said, frustrated. "We've been searching, but they've been laying low. Charles discovered the plot when he noticed that others sharing your name or physical traits were dying or being sent on equally dangerous assignments. Nobody knows who you are Lelouch. And we didn't want to reveal your identity by interfering. All our power... and we couldn't do anything. I should have found another way."

Always something more on his plate, but he couldn't muster up the burning anger that always simmered within him. He was so tired.

Done.

Everything was finally over... and his mother did love him even if she showed it with force to clear his path. All of his friends would always be in danger from her brand of overzealous protection and justice.

Still...

"I accept your apology, Mother."

The answering smile was blindingly bright and she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Lelouch. We'll be going home soon... And your friends? I may find them disrespectful, but they are loyal. They would do well to protect you." She grimaced. "Maybe even form your royal guard."

Home...

"Mother, we haven't been to the Aeries Villa in years. Not since... that night. Home,"—he paused and considered his words—"is with the people I trust. Nunnally's home is at Ashford Academy now. She had friends and a life there. One that she couldn't have had back in Pendragon. And for me? This is my home."

She pursed her lips. "You're worth so much more, Lelouch. You could change the world. Schneizel would take you on in his office and teach you the ropes. Odysseus would love your help in implementing reforms. Even Cornelia would take you under her wing and train you in the art of war... Or I could do that?"

"And Guinivere would love to sabotage any efforts out of spite." Lelouch sighed. "I know I can change things here. They protect me and I want to protect them in turn."

Hadn't he promised Art he would figure out how to bring justice to the world? He could argue for the laws to be changed, but what use was that if they were never implemented? If the people didn't care for the spirit of law? Britannia could declare all Numbers as full Britannian citizens and they would still be second class citizens, denied essentials through prejudice and the power of economics.

He continued, "The 712th is my home... And for many of the soldiers, it's their only home as well. I can at least make it a good home."

Change had to begin somewhere. He couldn't save everyone... He would have to sacrifice people. But he could start by offering a place of safety from Britannia's prejudice.

"You're too soft on the Numbers," Marianne whispered. She glanced out the window at the night sky. "I remember my first battle. Charles had declared the Ganymede would be kept secret at all costs. We ambushed Emperor Brandon's forces under the moonlight. I took care of the sentries with ease before they could sound the alarm. I didn't have the strength to finish off the soldiers after they surrendered. Then the infantry came in... and killed every possible witness. I was to be Charles's secret weapon and nobody could know. Every one of those soldiers who were following orders were executed. I never called for backup after that."

People were incredibly fragile, yet somehow, some managed to endure countless toils. They fought and fell within the same breath. Even those who surrendered were not spared. Power came in many forms, but those who refused to give up were the only ones who could survive and potentially save the powerless.

She swallowed. "The only rumors of Charles's secret weapon was the flash of light from the moon reflecting off the metal. He was so displeased. Tried painting the entire thing black, but that didn't work. Only the most trusted nobles knew... and they tried so hard to keep the Ganymede out of a commoner's hand. And I wanted them to succeed. I wanted them to pilot the cursed machine so I could finally sleep instead of spilling blood under moonlight. But nobody could do what I did."

Lelouch stayed silent as he witnessed her unusually raw moment. She always talked about the thrill of battle and the excitement. He had never thought there was something else.

Except that wasn't true… How many times had he witnessed her return from a campaign and envelop him and Nunnally in a hug, before retreating into her room and not coming out for days on end except for meals?

She had been a bastion of strength: the Flash. Foolishly, he had never dug further, buying into the story and not daring to question his parents.

But once, she too had been young. Thrust into a position above her station and having to perform or face the consequences.

"I was only sixteen. Charles was always watching. Sometimes I felt so proud to have the attention of a contender for the throne. Mostly, I was terrified. I had to learn to act and talk like a noble. If I wasn't piloting or helping Reuben run tests, I was studying history and eavesdropping. They sent assassins after me once they realized they couldn't beat me in combat. I only survived because Reuben required me to eat my food with him, without exception. We lost eight different tasters within the first half of the year. And I killed seven assassins who snuck into my tent.

"Funny enough, I was actually eavesdropping on Lord Gainberg when I heard the commotion from Charles's tent. Three assassins attacked him. He killed two of them and I dispatched the other without even thinking. I thought they were after me at first. Later, I learned the assassins killed Charles's Knight of Honor. The attacks stopped for a while after that. Maybe they were afraid of my skills? Or maybe it was because Charles had begun to seek out my company."

She giggled.

"Everyone thought we were sleeping together. Initially, he invited me to spar in secret. I kicked his butt the first time and he looked so offended. But then he ordered me to do it again. And again. So every time we returned, we were always a disheveled mess. He was so flabbergasted when Guinivere confronted him about it. Honestly, he's a little slow on the uptake at times."

"Mother, please don't," Lelouch said.

Laughing, she ruffled his short hair. "You're so cute when you're embarrassed. But don't worry, we never did anything until we married... Charles wanted to stifle the rumors and he had just declared me as his Knight of Honor, so he insisted on bringing my education up to par. After a month or so, I got fed up and gave him my hat and dragged him into a nearby town to the movie theater. It was actually Men in Black and that was the first time I heard Charles laugh." She grinned. "We saw a ridiculous number of movies that summer."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Besides watching you turn red?" she teased. "Yes. You and your father are so alike in many ways. I never bothered trying to change the world. I was a commoner and for the longest time thought that was the end of it. But Charles? He dreamt big. The Emblem of Blood... It's hard to explain. Britannia was different then and I know you see problems still, but back then we lived in a constant state of fear. Some commoners were lucky and lived on the fringe of battles, but others weren't. Nobles would storm through our fields, destroying the year's crops. Then return in the Fall and demand tribute. Other times, they would play little war games between each other and use the village as target practice. There was no Emperor. There were no rules.

"My parents ran the local clinic, but things were mostly peaceful for us and we always had money. They died when I was eight. Lord Blenford and his eldest son were assassinated in the night. Two branch families fought over who should inherit the property, our town. But they were broke. So one of them rounded up everyone in the village and forced them to pay a few thousand pounds or be indentured. My parents hid me in the closest under a mountain of clothes when they came knocking. My father was furious so he struck the lord. I heard them die.

"Charles... He was so tired of all the fighting and endless death. He tried to rationalize it. Had to because otherwise his brother's sacrifice was in vain. Thought people just had to stop lying and speak the truth then everyone would understand each other. I bought into that dream at first. I wanted forgiveness for killing all those people. Because maybe all the deaths meant something. But we kept killing, lying, and manipulating until we ensnared Emperor Brandon and forced him into an Honor Duel. I killed him and thought it was finally all over. But it wasn't. To keep order we had to keep fighting."

Lelouch resisted the urge to snort. Their dream was stupid. Lies... Lies were necessary. People lied to protect themselves and others. They lied when they were in pain to alleviate other's misery. They lied to not spoil a birthday surprise. They lied to protect lives. A lie caused just as much conflict as the truth. It wasn't better or worse. A world without lies would look exactly the same.

Art hadn't helped Lelouch because he told the truth and undoubtedly still believed in the Crow's ideology. Lelouch could argue his morals and ideals until he was blue in the face, but Art would not have been swayed. He had helped because Lelouch appealed to his own morals. Morals which were different for every person. Unless everyone was the same, experiences would influence people's values and beliefs.

"Why do you think your father arrested half of his court?" his mother asked dryly. "Your skepticism is clear. We grew out of our naivety. Running a country will do that. We ended up prioritizing stability. Our personal beliefs were second to the state of the country. An Empire serves its people to minimize the overall suffering. If the E.U. or China were to invade, then millions would die. So Britannia must continue to appear strong. We... aren't strong. An almost century long civil war ravished our economy and we were lucky enough that the E.U. and China had their own wars on the continent and in the Pacific. Reuben probably saved Britannia by inventing the knightmare. The E.U. actually tried to invade Area Two right after my wedding and we spent months covering it up."

Britannia always won. It was an unquestionable fact. Every child knew it. Every adult knew it. Lelouch had believed it. It was why he spent months setting up a hideout for the inevitable invasion of Japan.

But it was a lie...

Could the Count actually have won?

How much did it take to topple an Empire?

Only nobles could be officers. They were often promoted not based on skill, but influence. The army granted knighthood and by extension a temporary noble rank to help fill the ranks of officers with competent soldiers. It was a bandaid on a gushing wound. Lord Ashford's estates had struggled because essential trade was curtailed by jealous nobles. There weren't enough doctors. The Numbers were a primed powder keg.

If the Count had allied with the Numbers, she could have won. Her revolution would have swept through Britannia as the Numbers took up arms and started concurrent revolutions. The industries built on their oppression, crippled. Paying lip service to commoner issues like rampant crime would have bought support from the commoners. United, the military couldn't have sent in a Number division to crush the rebellious population. There would be no scapegoat to redirect anger at.

China or the E.U. would then undoubtedly have preyed on the moment of weakness. Perhaps, Britannia could have used the resulting battle ground to foster a surge of patriotism and push the invaders out. But if the Count had done it instead? There would have been no rallying cry. She would be the symbol of protection for Britannian citizens.

Even if Britannia defeated the Count afterword and all her forces, there would always be a whisper of weakness. China and the E.U. would be looking for a new opportunity to pounce. Initially, the people might be broken and compliant, but soon rumors of might would spread. All it took was someone else to step up and deliver a victory against Britannia to reignite the powder keg.

An empire was terribly fragile.

"She could have won," Lelouch whispered, "if she hadn't been more open minded. She could have crowned herself as the next Empress."

Had it been someone more... principled, would that have been better? Or would the Empire fall apart within a few years and lead to millions of deaths?

"Your father has a few more tricks up his sleeve thankfully," she replied. "But yes, we hadn't realized how out of control the situation had spiraled. There seems to be a bit of a communication problem."

"Nobody wants to be the bearer of bad news."

She chuckled. "Yes. Nunnally pointed out that shooting the messenger was a bad idea. But you understand, Lelouch? We can have ideals, but the real world is not as willing to bend. I wish that I never killed anyone, but I must. I have sent people to die to achieve a victory. It's a harsh calculus we do. My life or theirs? And you often choose yourself. But then it becomes my life or ten... or thirty... or a hundred. When should you sacrifice your life? If you live today, will you eventually save more than if you die?"

"Everyone's life is equal," Lelouch retorted.

"All men are not created equal. If you die, Britannia appears weak and thus must counter. Your death would cause millions to die. Your life can save millions. If a doctor dies, every future patient of his potentially dies. He shouldn't die to save one man."

Edgar had died to save his life…

"If a soldier dies, they prevent the deaths of their comrades and the civilians. If a commander dies, their troops will die. If a terrorist dies, they can no longer take a life." His mother paused. "The current system allows us to calculate the potential of a life. A Number will never rise above their station so regardless of skills, their life is worth the least. A commoner has a chance... but they are unlikely to save many lives. Nobles are tricky. Some cause great harm while others bring prosperity. Fortunately, there are few of them, so we make a case by case decision."

Acidicly, Lelouch asked, "And a royal?"

"Their lives have little inherent value, but their deaths are signs of weakness. As long as they stay alive, they bring security. Empress Tianzi of the Chinese Federation has no value or skills, except as a figure head. Her death would still be catastrophic so the eunuchs keep her locked away in the palace but safe, where she can fulfill her role. Charles brings actual value because he governs and forces the noble lords not to run wild. His life is therefore to be protected at all costs."

Lelouch had survived the Count due to luck, not because of his status of royalty. A stray bullet, a slip of the knife, or an insidious poison in his tea could cut his life abruptly short. His thread of fate was waiting to be snipped. The present mattered as much as the future.

Unfortunately, his parents' weighing of lives governed the world he lived in. Perhaps the world could be kinder, but it would never be granted the opportunity to try under the current Britannia.

"It's still wrong," Lelouch muttered, feeling like a child.

"Maybe," she admitted, "but it works. Britannia is recovering. Compared to the Emblem of Blood, people are happier. Most have a place to live and no longer need to worry that they'll starve. The majority have access to medical care if they can afford it. Ten years ago... that wasn't the case." She sighed. "Maybe you won't understand now, but eventually you will. Try to get some sleep."

"Mother?" Lelouch said as she turned around. "Henry… It's not his fault."

Her lips pursed, but she nodded. "I'll tell Charles to go easy on him."

That was the largest concession he would get. Henry had failed to protect him and Lelouch could only hope that his friend would escape an execution.

He watched her roll away and leave him in the empty room. At least there was light. And no water dripping.

Despite what his mother said, he refused to accept her logic. Time was a luxury that he didn't have. The Count had held his life in her hands and he was only spared because of Art's compassion.

The water was dripping… marking the passage of time.

Time held in the vice grip of the Three Fates. Time refused to wait for him to catch his breath. Time needed to change the world.

* * *

**Hospital Room**

The constant barrage of people moving on the floors below and above comforted Lelouch as he slowly ate his breakfast. He wasn't in the dark cell and slowly, his mind was beginning to accept the fact. Very slowly. He could still feel the phantom ropes around his wrists or the Count's knife against his throat.

If only he could actually see people, but outside of the doctor and nurse assigned to his care, his area was silent. He knew two guards stood outside his door from the clicking of their boots when they changed shifts an hour earlier, but he had yet to see their faces.

He took a scoop of his divine applesauce and let it disperse across his tongue. Food had never tasted so superb.

A surge of nausea swept through him. What if it was poisoned? Laced with another sedative? Was it safe? His food should be safe. His mother would never allow him to be poisoned on her watch.

He took another scoop. It tasted like ash. Still... he had to eat. Needed to leave. The food was fine.

He took another scoop.

At the struggle for the fifteenth scoop, the Emperor walked into the room. He stood in the doorway and Lelouch suddenly found the willpower to swallow and set down his food.

"Your Majesty."

"Lelouch." The Emperor turned around, shut the door, and sat down. The half filled container of applesauce rested on the bedside table between them. "You should eat."

Confused, Lelouch picked it up and took another bite. It still tasted like ash. He liked food... Would it always taste repulsive?

"You seem to be recovering."

Was this an attempt at small talk? Suddenly, his mother's story felt much more plausible.

Clearing his throat, the Emperor asked, "Do you need anything?"

"Did Mother ask you to do this, Your Majesty?"

The Emperor looked... annoyed? "No. I asked for her advice, but I already intended on having this discussion." He paused then boomed, "You killed the Count."

Lelouch recoiled at the sudden increase in volume, recognizing it as the Emperor's normal court voice.

"You killed the Count," the Emperor said again at a more conversational volume. "Rumors of the mysterious commander, Zero, continue to spread.. Additionally, your birthday passed."

His birthday had passed?

"You don't wish to return to court?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good."

Good?

The Emperor said, "I've informed your siblings that you missed your birthday celebration because you were fulfilling a task I assigned to you. You have two options. Either you will return to court, publicly known as Zero,"—Lelouch winced—"or you will continue to serve as Zero, my agent. You will officially hold the rank of Major General and command the 712th Division."

"Thank you," Lelouch said honestly, "I would be honored to command the 712th, Your Majesty."

"I haven't finished," the Emperor rebuked. "You will be clearing up the rest of the Crows and various terrorist cells within Area Two. This privilege is dependent on you keeping control of your men. No desertions or mutinies. Normally, the division would be dispersed and the ring leaders executed. I don't care that they ended the Count or whatever agreement Marianne made. Only their loyalty to you stays my hand. Killing the Count was luck. You will prove that it wasn't luck."

The Emperor expected results or else Lelouch would be dragged kicking and screaming back to court.

Lelouch nodded. "My answer remains the same, Your Majesty."

"Very well. You may do as you wish, but I want the last of the Crows gone by the end of spring." He stood up and turned around. "Also, you will need to make your own excuses for not attending balls. You're fourteen. There is no reason for mail not to be forwarded to you."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Lelouch said as he despaired. He wasn't out of court life completely. If he didn't reply to the invitations, he would come across as rude and potentially cause a scandal.

The Emperor's hand rested on the doorknob. "Do you have any questions?"

The orders were clear. "No, Your Majesty."

The doorknob turned and the impression of a bird sent a stab of pain through his head.

"Wait," Lelouch murmured and the Emperor paused. Waiting as if he hadn't just given the Emperor an order. "Do you remember the assasination attempt on me and Nunnally?"

The Emperor, his face impassive, stepped away from the door. "Of course."

"What is V.V., Father?" Unbidden, the last word slipped out.

He froze and his voice was low. "How did you hear that name?"

"You said it that day to the assassin."

Staring into Lelouch's eyes, he said, "No, I don't remember that."

The purple eyes bore into him, promising danger.

Lelouch swallowed. "The assassin was alive after I stabbed her. Bismarck swept in and checked on Nunnally and then you came in. She apologized because I fought through whatever drug she used... and then you said: V.V."

"Forget that name," the Emperor ordered. "You will never speak of V.V. again if you value your life."

"The assassin was an OSI agent... but not. Are they a threat to Nunnally? Will they try to kidnap her again?" Lelouch pushed on, heedless of the danger.

The Emperor's face darkened. "Kidnap again?"

"She said she only needed one of us. That Nunnally was more malleable."

He snarled.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Lelouch whispered and ducked his head. He had pushed too far. Obviously, his questions were unwelcomed.

"Lelouch," the Emperor hissed quietly and gripped his shoulder. "You will never speak of V.V. again. You will pretend that all you remember from the attack is killing the assassin after she went to check if you were dead. No one can ever suspect otherwise. V.V. is dangerous."

"Understood," Lelouch said. He would have to do his own investigations.

The Emperor's fingernails dug into his skin. "No, you obviously don't. If you investigate anything from then, you will die... or worse. Your sister will suffer the same fate. Marianne has the tools to deal with the threat. You are defenseless."

Lelouch winced and the Emperor released his grip. He almost sounded terrified and Lelouch wondered what he had stumbled upon. But those memories had been repressed. The Emperor had known he was there... looked into his eyes. Why hadn't he expected Lelouch to one day remember? It wasn't like memories could be altered.

The Emperor must have forgotten.

"I won't investigate," Lelouch promised.

The Emperor stepped back and grimaced. "Consider the OSI compromised." A slight pause. "I'm… relieved that you are alright."

He left.

Lelouch looked down at the apple sauce. Had someone intended to use Nunnally as leverage? But then why more malleable? What had been their intentions? He needed answers, but had promised not to look. And if the Emperor was scared then Lelouch might have kicked a bigger hornet nest than anticipated. He had been nine. Nunnally five. There was nothing they personally could have done.

Was V.V. a weapon or project? Something wielded by an enemy of the Emperor?

But his mother had nearly died the night before. Was it an enemy of hers which was why the Emperor insinuated that he would send her to deal with the problem? Too many questions.

"Lelouch!" Alex cried and ran into the room. "The guards finally left and allowed visitors. I'm so glad you're okay. What was all the security for?"

Don't trust the OSI. Alex was OSI now... but Lelouch couldn't drive himself paranoid with worry. Alex would never betray him.

"Just some important people," Lelouch replied easily.

Alex shook his head. "How the hell did you pull off being Zero? Nobody can just take charge like that. But you did... People are saying Zero has to be an agent of the Emperor."

"That's true," Lelouch whispered. He was now the Emperor's willing pawn. To be free, he had chained himself. Or maybe, the chain had always been there, but now, he only realized it.

"And well, the news is saying he's some brilliant General or something," Alex continued.

Had the choice the Emperor presented him been real? Or had he known what Lelouch would choose and moved appropriately. A brilliant General? Nobody would believe a skinny brat, barely fourteen, was Zero.

"It's true?" Alex asked, confused as he processed what Lelouch had said. "But— Is it because of your parents? They do stuff with the OSI, right?"

"Sort of," Lelouch answered. "My family... is complicated. Please, drop it."

A long pause. "When can you leave? Everyone's dying to see you again. And please, oh wise one, tell me that you have some idea what we're doing. Because I'm still not convinced we aren't all gonna die."

"Cleaning up Area Two," Lelouch replied, swinging his legs out of bed. Apparently, his parents had vanished or else Alex would never have been able to enter the room. Unless he was here as a ruse to assassinate or kidnap him? No. That was ridiculous. "We succeed; we live."

Lelouch stumbled towards the door and Alex offered his arm.

Grinning, Alex said, "Well, we did the impossible once. Ya know who will be in charge?"

"Me." And that was terrifying. One battle against the Count was simple. Now. He had to manage some ten thousand men and all their supplies, while ensuring not a single one deserted. There was no room for failure. And he only had until the end of spring.

There was too much to do; too little time.

"How's that gonna work with you being a commoner?" Alex narrowed his eyes. "Or ya suddenly gonna be a noble now."

Lelouch had complete control. The Emperor had said he could do as he wished. He could prove himself and show that justice should be blind, but he wasn't foolish enough to only take one approach. The Count had fought through force and media. So would Lelouch.

According to Nunnally, Odysseus had been distraught to hear he was in the army. He would be incensed to learn he was Zero. If Lelouch directed that anger, he could find a valuable ally in reforming the Empire.

Odysseus, despite his mediocrity, was still the Crow Prince. Unlike Schneizel, he didn't covet power and was sympathetic to commoners who couldn't protect themselves.

Feeling hopeful, Lelouch said, "No. Zero is in charge. I'll still be me. We're going to do things differently."

"You're going to be two people at once?"

"At least to the public. I have permission to do what I wish as long as I bring results."

Zero would be the loyal agent of the Emperor: purging terrorism and making hard decisions. For every victory Lelouch managed, the more freedom he would have and the more power Zero would gain as a symbol. His father was gambling on him succeeding to help stabilize the Empire.

Alex said, "That's a lot of rope..."

Yes. The Emperor had given him plenty to hang himself. Recent awkward conversation aside, he did not tolerate disrespect or failure. In this game, Lelouch was the only one who could lose and his division would pay the consequences.

"Damn it," Lelouch whispered. "I need to find Art."

Art was the Count's second. He knew everything about her and if Lelouch was going to succeed, he needed every possible advantage.

"Who?" Alex asked.

* * *

**Scotia General Hospital, Area Two**

The execution was set in an hour. Lelouch had arrived in time. The two guards' eyes widened as he approached and they bowed deeply. He was grateful that he managed to beg Alex to fetch his paperwork. Lelouch ignored the flash of guilt at lying to his friend; he wasn't staying in bed.

"I will be speaking to the prisoner alone," he ordered.

The two guards straightened and shared a glance. Finally, the older one said, "Your Highness, I'm not sure if that is advisable."

"It is not a request," Lelouch replied and walked forward. "I have questions for him. If you followed proper procedure, then he is no threat to me." Regardless, Lelouch doubted Art would kill him, not after saving him and knowingly sacrificing his own life. If it weren't for Lelouch, then Art would still be free.

The guards remained uneasy.

"Either contact His Majesty or step aside," Lelouch snapped.

The guards stepped aside and Lelouch entered the cell.

Immediately he wanted, no needed, to leave. The smell of blood hung in the air and Lelouch could taste copper as he breathed. Art sat in the corner, a dark bruise on his face and more peeking from beneath the straight jacket. The OSI had been busy.

"You're alright," Art whispered and Lelouch flinched. "Here to gloat? You won."

No. This was wrong.

Art wasn't innocent and a part of Lelouch did want to gloat and scream because everything was Art's fault. Art had brought him to the Count, stood by and watched, and injected the poison into his vein. He wanted to reach out and kick and punch so Art would know exactly how hopeless Lelouch had felt lying in the dark in the cell.

What it felt like to wonder if the next moment would be the last.

To abandon everything to survive.

And to not be able to trust his mind and body.

"Breath, Lelouch," Art interrupted. "Take a deep breath."

He couldn't be weak. His father expected him to lead a division. To verbally spar with nobles at court. To act like everything was fine because Lelouch still had all ten fingers and toes.

There was no time for weakness.

He gagged, the half-digested applesauce rising in his stomach and only barely settling down again.

Taking a deep breath and ignoring the stench, Lelouch asked, "How are you?"

Art raised a single eyebrow.

"Is there?" Lelouch wasn't sure what he was asking. "I'm sorry."

"You're a strange prince. I knew what would happen and I've accepted it... sort of. In the end, Brie wasn't who I thought she was." Art looked away as his face contorted. "I fixed my mistakes and eventually someone will learn from the Count and finish what she started. That is enough."

They hadn't been allies because of ideological beliefs. Circumstances had brought them together, but Lelouch was still a prince; Art, a terrorist.

Lelouch lowered himself to the ground gingerly. His muscles and joints still ached from their abuse. "The Emperor tasked me with ending terrorism in Area Two."

"If you ask me, you'll get the same answer the OSI got, but your father is an ass." He smirked. "What? I'm already getting executed for treason. Bad mouthing the Emperor is hardly going to change my sentence."

"And you're content dying a meaningless death?"

Art glared. "It's not. Brie—I'm still a Crow. And I'll die as one."

Lelouch needed Art. Needed to know what he knew. Convince him somehow where every OSI agent failed—not that Lelouch could stomach using their methods anymore. Without him, the task set by the Emperor was insurmountable.

Perhaps Lelouch had the skills to fight an opponent across the battlefield and navigate armies to flank and outmaneuver. But the Crows weren't a traditional army. Without the Count, they would fracture into different factions or merge with other groups that had stood independently.

They could hide from Lelouch's discerning gaze as he sent his men on wild goose hunts through Area Two. Time was on their side and Lelouch did not want to know what he would do to protect his men. They had to succeed to prove their loyalty. Failure was not an option.

Whose life would be sacrificed next to save the division? The Emperor had given him a carte-blanche. And Lelouch would no longer hesitate to use it because of his pride.

Picking his words with care, he said, "You said it was better to try than do nothing. You're giving up."

"Ah yes, I'm about to be executed. Brie, who I loved like a sister, betrayed me. And I'm sure that you will succeed in your mission. Nothing I did had any value in the end. Oliver is dead and he would hate me..." Art looked up. "So tell me, _Your Highness, _what should I do?"

"You helped me, saved me and countless civilians by telling me about the ship," Lelouch whispered. He knew what he could offer, even if it would piss off both his parents. But they had given him the power and he intended to use it. "You can do it again."

"What? Spill my secrets so you can take out everything I worked for."

"No." Lelouch caught his eyes. "I will order your release into my custody and be accountable for your actions. In return, you'll help me. You were the Count's second. You know everything about the Crows, but more importantly, you helped run them and ran an intelligence network that slipped by the OSI."

"I'll never support Britannia," Art said.

"No, I'm asking you to lend me your support. I promised that I would try to change things and I will, starting with my division." Lelouch smiled. "Either you die and your dream ends there without having brought lasting change. Dead men can't do anything. Or, you help me change Britannia into a just nation."

"And betray everyone."

"I can only protect those within the division," Lelouch offered. A division filled with Numbers and former radicals would horrify the nobility which made it more enticing. "As long as I succeed, nobody will interfere with how I run things."

Art considered him, silently. His eyes, searching for something bored into him. Lelouch met his gaze passively. No longer, did he have anything to hide. Art already knew his biggest secret and had seen him at his worst.

"I won't follow another Brigit," Art warned and shook his head. "I trusted her and she lied to my face for years and I didn't—refused to notice. I'll not make that mistake again."

But Art was willing to negotiate and for his men, Lelouch would succeed. Give him a reason to keep living. Even if it meant keeping a dagger pointed at his back because Art had been willing to betray the woman he devoted his life to for his own morals and would have even less scruples in betraying Lelouch.

Lelouch answered with confidence he didn't feel. "I won't lie to you, but you also don't have my trust. The Emperor may ask me to hold information in confidence or I may withhold—"

"—No." Art glared. "Omission is lying and I know you're skilled in the art. Complete and total honesty. If you cannot say something, you'll tell me why."

"Fine. Anything else?"

Art blinked and leaned back, scrutinizing him. "I did the Count's dirty work. She'd tell me to kidnap a noble and I would. Or assassinate an officer... Hurt you. So why?"

If only Lelouch didn't have to answer. But this was a test as much as it was to satisfy Art's curiosity. His personal feelings and nausea didn't matter. The guards would enter soon to drag Art to his execution and Lelouch needed to convince him now.

"You controlled the Count's information network, didn't you? You investigated and managed to flip loyal soldiers. The OSI functions more of a deterrence: an instrument of fear. Every Britannian understands the cost of treason, but the Crows and other terrorists moved beyond the fear of execution with hope. I cannot win by threatening them into submission. My mother tried that and the Crows sprung up again the second she let, regrouping. To fulfill the Emperor's orders…"

Lelouch took a deep breath. "Either I kill every dissident until fear paralyzes them, which will cause new uprisings in other Areas when they hear the news, or I take a more targeted approach and eradicate popular support for the Crows."

Needing time to find the right words, Lelouch paused. "Your value lies in your skills and knowledge which makes the latter option possible and more efficient. I am capable of setting our history aside to not waste a valuable resource."

"And aren't you worried that I will sweep your men out from under you? Rise as the Count's successor and either kill you in the middle of the night or let your father do it for me when I help you fail spectacularly." Art scowled. "Do you value your own life so little? To trust me when I barely demonstrated a shred of human decency."

"Spare me the lecture," Lelouch grumbled. "I already received it from my mother and will undoubtedly hear it again after this stunt. With your help, I can minimize the blood that will be shed. And you only helped me before to save the civilians in Halifax, so I doubt you'll turn on me in a manner that will result in innocent blood spilled. Regardless, it's a risk I'm willing to take."

Instead of being appeased, Art looked at him sadly and sighed. "You'll be dead in a month without my help. Fine. But you lie to me or stray from the path of justice, I will kill you. That's my promise."

"Agreed," Lelouch said, not able to keep to the relief out of his voice.

"And you'll be extending the offer of clemency to all former Crows if they lay down their arms."

He grimaced. "Zero will make the suggestion to the Viceroy, but I only can offer protection to those within the division."

"Make it work," Art ordered.

"I will," Lelouch promised. He already planned to bring in his notoriously soft-hearted brother and reveal himself as Zero to defang terrorists with public reforms. An offer of clemency would complicate the negotiating table. But first... "I need your French contacts."

And Art finally relented, spousing information the OSI had been unable to acquire through hours of interrogation or rather torture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worldbuilding Notes:
> 
> -While a person can be a knight, Knights of Honor are a much more esteemed and trusted position, but a knight and their liege are not allowed to marry.
> 
> -The French are very eager to reclaim Area Two which has resulted in numerous failed invasion attempts.
> 
> -Gawain is the name of Lelouch's knightmare frame in canon. In the King Arthur legends, he was initially Lancelot's friend and then his bitter enemy. Ironically, it seems like Lancelot kills Gawain's brothers which starts the feud.
> 
> Author's Note:  
Some much needed conversations happened and one more chapter to go.  
As for the summary, between A03 and FFN, you guys managed to tie. So I flipped a coin. Lol. Summary 2 wins.
> 
> See you next week. (Or via: Discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )  
Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing.


	36. Feather of Maat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: Lelouch's mother may have survived, but the Emperor still sees him as a pawn. It doesn't matter if he submits or fights for his independence, Lelouch's hands will be sullied by blood. His father's will is absolute and Britannia rests on the graves of innocents. Book 1 of Excalibur

_My first memory is snatching a lock of my brother's hair and then him carefully prying my hands free. Sometimes, we would argue and fight, but by bedtime, our strife was forgotten. He taught me to read, guiding my hands over bumps. I found our first friend and urged them to bond. When others whispered vile words, my brother stood and defended my honor. When nightmares plagued him, I comforted him. We would tear the world apart to save another._

_For years, we were always together, never separated by more than a door and a wall. He knew every scratch I accrued, and I knew his every tear. Now, I wait for a phone call, not knowing anything. The chasm between us grows while I dream of his pain. He needs me to find him, but I cannot see. His voice echoes in the cavern and I wait bound. When I grasp his hands, his pulse is painfully slow._

_To my brother, I beg you to return._

—_Chrysanthemum: To My Brother by Red Dawn_

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

Nunnally set down the phone and rested her head against the cool table. Deep breaths shook her body, but Lelouch was safe. He had finally called her himself after numerous assurances from her mother. His voice had been hoarse and he had failed to crack a joke.

He always tried to reassure her. Last time he caught the flu, he cracked jokes despite his raging fever. That and telling her to stop hugging him because she would get sick.

Nunnally came down with fever two days later. In the following months, he lorded it over her, insisting that she should have listened to him.

Like then, she wanted to fly to him and envelop him in a hug and never let go. They were supposed to share everything. Instead, she almost lost him.

Maybe she shouldn't have been so selfish. Not asked to go to school. Then he wouldn't need to risk his life.

Now, he was only safe, but not fine.

Sure, he said he was fine. Her mother had assured her, he was fine. But that was all a lie. He had been captured and refused to say what happened.

Her nightmares filled in the gaps.

Silence spoke volumes. If he were fine, then he would describe the event with clinical precision and wave off any concerns. He hadn't even put in the effort to assure and dismiss her worries with a joke.

No. He was certainly not fine, but Nunnally had no idea how to help him.

Why had he chosen to stay in the army? He could have left and their mother would have helped him pack. Then he would have the time to heal.

"Nunnally?" Allie asked, her hand settling on her shoulder. "Your brother?"

"He's fine," Nunnally said, forcing a smile and repeating the same lie. He had joined the army to give her a safe life at Ashford, but their lie of peace could so easily be shattered. "Allie? Let's go out for lunch."

Confused, Allie pressed her for details as they exited Ashford Academy and walked through the bustling streets of Tokyo. Nunnally fended them off with a gentle smile to hide the turmoil within. Lelouch was Zero. Her father had forced him into a new role to serve the Empire and he accepted. Acceptance implied a choice and Nunnally doubted there had been a real one. Not when his friends' lives depended on their parents' benevolence.

"Where do you want to eat? Oranges are out of season so unless we go somewhere fancy..." Allie said.

Nunnally laughed. Of course her friend's mind wandered to oranges. But... "I wanted to talk."

Even now, the lives of Lelouch's friends hung on a thread. He had to serve their father and rise to every challenge to save them. Lelouch would succeed; there was no other option, but then would come the next task. Maybe their father wouldn't threaten them explicitly, but if Lelouch failed, he could no longer protect his men.

Lelouch would be painfully loyal to their father in order to protect those he held dear. His friends had no idea their lives were in danger or how their actions threatened her brother.

"Sure, but we could have done that at Ashford," Allie said.

Friends were dangerous.

"The school is bugged and this... it's rather private." Nunnally's cold, stiff fingers squeezed the cane as she tapped it along the street. "Lelouch's capture... It wasn't good."

"Of course, he's your brother. But he's fine now. I'm sure it won't happen again."

"No. My parents... If Lelouch died, they would have retaliated." She chuckled bitterly. "Mother was pissed and I had to beg her not to harm Lelouch's friends because she would have. They _lost_ him."

A long silence followed. Allie stepped closer, her feet crunching snow and her hand brushing against her arm. "You don't talk about your parents much."

The implied question hung between them.

"No," Nunnally finally said. "I don't. They're not... nice."

Lelouch would never tell his friends the truth. He valued their friendship too much and wouldn't risk changing it.

"I gathered," Allie said dryly. "But you're still my friend, no matter what they do."

"I'm not supposed to tell you about them and if Lord Ashford finds out, he will tell my mother."

"Do they know each other?"

"Since long before I was born. If Mother didn't trust him, I wouldn't be allowed to be here. Brother joined the army so I would have a chance at a normal life... but it's all a lie and not fair to you."

"Nunnally." Allie hugged her and led her to a snow covered bench. "You don't need to tell me if you're not ready. I know you."

"You don't understand," Nunnally whispered, her voice cracking. "If Lelouch disobeys our father, it's not him paying the price, but his friends. He should be home and resting, but instead he's staying in the army to protect his friends." She took a deep breath. "I'll never be ready to tell you because it will change things, but just because you don't see the danger, doesn't mean it isn't there. You deserve to know what you're getting into."

Allie scooted closer and her voice shook. "Are your parents threatening you?"

"No, I'm too young and Lelouch is the smart one," Nunnally said. Perhaps if he was painfully average, then she could have shouldered some of the burden. "But when I'm older? I can't let Lelouch shield me forever."

"Milly is afraid of your parents. She knows, doesn't she?" At her silence, Allie continued, "Tell me."

"Nobody can learn that you know. If Lord Ashford even suspects you know, he'll tell my mother... Worst case, there'll be an accident. Everyone will believe it to be bad luck, but you won't survive. And if it's suspected that you told your family, they'll suffer an accident as well. You'll have to act like everything is the same even if it's not."

Allie's voice shook. "Your parents assassinate people."

"Regularly."

"And if I say no?"

"I like you Allie, so I'll say we had an argument and request a new room. I don't want you hurt because of me."

A hand wrapped around hers and Allie firmly said, "Tell me."

Maybe she was stalling, but Nunnally needed her friend to understand the consequences. There was no going back afterwards and if they misstepped, Allie would be dead.

Nunnally pulled her hand free. "You won't be able to change your mind. And by telling you, I'll be pulling you into our family drama. It will bind you forever to me and by staying with me, your family may be put in danger." Her mouth dried. "Think about it for a week."

They returned subduedly to Ashford and ate dinner in silence. Nunnally wanted to reach across the divide and say something to reassure her, but this had to be Allie's decision and while Nunnally couldn't tell her the truth yet, she wanted her to make an informed decision as possible.

A few days later, Milly flounced into the student council room. "Did you and Allie have a little lover's quarrel?"

"Milly, no!" Nunnally shrieked and buried her head in her arms. "Nothing like that, at all! I've just been worried about Lelouch."

Beside her, Shirley said, "You said he was fine."

Milly snorted. "Lulu would say everything was fine even if the sky was falling down so as to not worry his dear sister. So what's up with Allie then?"

"I may have snapped at her," Nunnally lied. "I really should say sorry, but she's been avoiding me. I think we both need some time to clear our heads."

A hand settled on her shoulder. "The plight of young love."

"You—" Nunnally yelled.

"And such a pretty one as well. But you know, Shirley is finally beginning to fill out in all the right places. In a few years, she'll put the ladies back in Pendragon to shame. Maybe she can catch Lulu's eyes the next time he visits."

Shirley's chair toppled. "It's not like that! And why are you looking at me like that!"

Nunnally growled. "I will murder you."

Laughing, Milly's footsteps danced away. "You wouldn't dare strike a lady. I am just proclaiming the truth. What do you think Lulu will like the most?"

"Don't talk like that about my brother," Nunnally snapped. "And I will hit you."

"All in good jest. But I want details. Either you and Allie or your brother. The poor girl is so depressed by what you said that she ignored the oranges which I ordered for breakfast. You're both absolutely miserable right now. Did you turn her down?"

Nunnally grit her teeth.

"Or we could talk about Lulu. The girls will need plenty of help catching his eye when the time comes. There has to be someone he likes. Come on, give us a hint."

Shirley was suspiciously silent.

"Don't spread such rumors," Nunnally ordered. "My mother is overprotective enough without giving her relationship fuel."

"Sorry," Milly said quietly. "But what about Lulu? He didn't notice anyone last time he was here no matter how hard the girls tried."

Nunnally stood up and walked to the door. "He'll notice them if they insult him."

The door shut behind her, cutting off Shirley's cry of "Nunnally!"

She needed to give her friend time, but the week of silence was slowly wearing down on her. There was a good chance she would lose her best friend, because who would risk their life for her? She shouldn't have given Allie the choice and instead pushed her away. Then her only friend would be Milly, who by nature of being the Ashford heir, would most likely be safe from her parent's manipulations.

But Allie?

She would never be safe. There was nothing to deter her parents from taking action.

Leaning against the wall, Nunnally took a deep breath. There was no need to complain. What was done was done. Her brother risked his life; this was nothing in comparison.

Footsteps slowly approached and Milly whispered, "Hey. I didn't push too hard did I? I only wanted to take your mind off things. You've been really down lately. I want you to smile. A real one. Lelouch will be fine."

Nunnally sank to the ground. "No... It's just... complicated. I keep thinking about what could go wrong."

"Well, Zero took care of the Count. That's one less thing to worry about."

"Lelouch is Zero."

"I'm not supposed to know that, right?"

Nunnally shook her head.

Sighing, Milly shuffled and sat down beside her. "Now, I'm worried about him too, but we can't help him. But at least he's not getting shot at anymore. And maybe it's a good thing? He'll be useful to the Emperor and that is power in the Imperial Court. The Emperor may be more lenient as a result and your brother... he's pretty radical. He's not good at hiding his disdain for Britannian policies like you are."

Both of them harbored more treasonous thoughts than Milly could ever imagine. Nunnally hadn't told her about the blog for a reason. There was no need to force Milly to choose between their friendship and loyalty to the Empire. Milly would choose the Empire every time; her family had too much at stake.

"Lelouch will obey as long as they threaten the lives of his friends," Nunnally said and waited for Milly to understand.

"Did you—Are you pushing Allie away so she can't be hurt?" Milly asked, aghast. "She's your best friend. Your parents won't hurt her. That's ridiculous. And unlike Lelouch, you won't make a pointless show of disobedience."

"I never did tell you what happened in Japan," Nunnally whispered. "You could feel the bombs dropping as the ground shook, smell the dead, and hear the rats squeaking and scampering over the corpses. Our best friend was there with us. He saved our lives and we hid him when we heard the knightmares approach. Mother wanted him dead because he was unworthy of being our friend. Being our friend... it offers no protection."

"Well, it's not the same. Allie is Britannian," Milly said.

Nunnally sneered. "He was ten and our best friend for two years. None of that mattered, only his birth. Now, his ashes are scattered to the wind or his body is lying in one of the numerous mass graves. The Fadiman heir is one of Lelouch's friends. He's basically nobility with how much money their family swims in, but that didn't stop Mother from threatening to execute him because he was bending the rules to try and save Lelouch. Allie... She's a nobody. Do you know how easy it would be to make her disappear? Just one wrong rumor to my parents and she'll be gone."

"I won't joke about such things anymore," Milly promised. "But don't push her away. You're here because you wanted to make friends. Don't let fear stop you now."

Nunnally stood up. "I'll consider it."

Her friend's answer would decide.

"I'm glad." Milly pulled her into a hug. "There's no need to be so angry with the world. Sometimes things are complicated, but you can trust in Britannia and the system. There are some bad apples, but they're eventually found and when we finally defeat the E.U. and the Chinese Federation, there won't be anymore wars. Your brother will be safe."

Nunnally pulled away, snarling. "You should ask your grandfather how many defenseless people he killed. How his knightmare frame allowed for the slaughter of the Japanese. They couldn't even fight back. Ask him how many people he assassinated to keep his research secret. What is his body count? My mother was his pilot long before she was my father's knight."

She regretted the moment the words left her mouth. Milly would be devastated. She didn't deserve her anger. Nor could she understand why Britannia was wrong. Allie didn't understand either. It wasn't their fault and had Nunnally and her brother not gone to Japan, they would be the same.

"I'm sorry," Nunnally whispered and fled.

* * *

**712th Encampment, Outside Halifax**

Lelouch spotted his friends clustered together and sharing a meal. Slightly apart from the rest, Henry sat on a crate. He had survived his father's wrath.

"Lelouch, you ditched me!" Alex shouted, but ran forward and pulled him into a warm hug. "Don't do that."

The others stood up and surrounded him with happy greetings. Roy and Pablo drew him into a hug and gently led him to their small cooking pot over an open flame. Lelouch rolled his eyes at the flagrant rule violation, but held his tongue. Even if it was just a few moments longer, he wanted to be there as their friend, not their commander.

Beside him, Roy stiffened and turned around jerkily. He growled, "Why the hell is _he _here?"

His friends moved in front of him as they caught sight of Art and their hands drifted to their guns.

Frederick growled and took a threatening step forward. "Don't care. I'm gonna fucking punch him in the face. Then you can shoot him. Damn Crows killed Edgar."

"I know where we can stash the body," Alex added helpfully. "Should stab him. Would be quieter."

"Alex, no!" Lelouch shouted as he stepped out of their protective cocoon. "I brought him. No shooting, stabbing, or punching!"

Frederick's hand stayed on his gun. "The Crow kidnapped you."

"Drugged us," Roy said. "He should be facing the firing squad, not walking free."

"I'm not letting him hurt anyone again," Frederick said as he stepped forward.

Lelouch frowned. They had toyed with treason in hopes of rescuing him; killing his new ally wasn't beyond them. "He saved my life. Let him be."

Roy crossed his arms. "It wouldn't have needed saving if it weren't for him. I'm not letting him near you again. I bet he's just waiting for the perfect opportunity to betray us and whatever fool let him walk free will regret it."

"Careful, Roy. That's your commander you're calling a fool," Pablo said and his eyes bore into Lelouch. "You're Zero."

Lelouch grimaced as Roy stepped back and Frederick's posture straightened, but didn't deny it. They knew, even if they didn't want to acknowledge it.

"Relax, Gosling. I'm not angry at you for defeating the Count. She can rot in hell, but from what I hear, the Crow should be joining her," Pablo said.

"Lelouch?" Roy whispered.

Pursing his lips, Lelouch nodded. "I'm Zero. My orders are to clear the terrorists from Area Two. Art... He agreed to help me."

There was no need to advertise Art's position as the Count's second. His friends were already hostile enough without blaming him for all their comrades' deaths at the hand of the Crows.

"You're in command of the division then," Pablo said. "Serving the Emperor?"

"Yes." The man whose policies denied Numbers rights and obliterated nations. His father.

The others watched silently.

"I hope you know what you're doing with the Crow, Lelouch. And with the Emperor." Pablo smiled and saluted lazily. "But I trust you. What are your orders, sir?"

"Can you get Art settled? And find an ankle monitor for him. I don't trust him to not run off."

"Yes, sir."

Lelouch watched Pablo leave and guide Art away. Unlike the rest of his friends, they hadn't interacted directly. Pablo was also reasonable enough that no unfortunate accidents would happen... probably. Keeping Art alive in a division where everyone had a reason to hate him was going to be difficult.

After an awkward moment of silence, his friends dragged him to the cooking pot. For now, they would disregard his role as their commander and Lelouch was grateful. He wasn't ready yet to say goodbye to their easy camaraderie. Henry remained apart, sitting on the outskirts and ignoring all of Lelouch's inquiring looks.

What had the Emperor done to him? He seemed fine, but failure was always punished.

Frederick also remained distant, his hands fiddling with a letter, but tucking it out of sight whenever Lelouch glanced at him. Edgar's death had to have hit him hard. Hopefully, Frederick didn't blame him.

Alex and Roy both laughed loudly and shoved a bowl of soup into his hands as they recounted anecdotes from the time he was gone.

Carefully, Lelouch tasted the soup. It was safe. His friends had prepared it and would never harm him. He swallowed. No nausea. No taste of ash. No feeling of dread. It was soup. Terrible soup perhaps, but it tasted like soup.

Slowly, he finished his first proper meal as Roy waxed on about Empress Marianne and how utterly terrifying she was. Occasionally, Alex would chime in with an extra detail, intent on giving Lelouch a heart attack. His mother was not to be trifled with and they were lucky to have escaped her wrath.

"Lelouch, can I talk to you for a minute? In private?" Frederick asked, interrupting his musings.

Lelouch set down his bowl. "Of course."

Frederick led him away from the group and behind a tent. For a minute he stood at attention and stared at the sky, before saying, "Edgar... He always wanted you and Alex out, thought you were too young. Prince Odysseus's offer gave him hope that he could save you because you both lied about your ages. But Alex will always follow you and now, you're Zero. He would be devastated."

"I have to do this," Lelouch said. He could have returned to his family and left this life behind, but he needed to save them.

"I've been wondering why the division was spared. Empress Marianne intended for us to fail and nothing would have stopped her from breaking her promise. Even then, the Emperor would not have honored her agreement. We planned to commit treason to save you. Henry deserted and took off on his own to track you down, but now he's back safe and sound. We should be dead."

Lelouch's mouth dried.

"Unless there were outside circumstances of course." Frederick sighed and pulled out a magazine from the inside of his jacket. "I took it before Alex could see... Your Highness."

Silently, Lelouch grabbed the magazine and stared at the cover. He had missed his birthday and for a gossip rag that had nothing better to do than poke their nose into the royal family's business, there was no better material. At least they didn't have a current photo of him.

"The others were too terrified of your mother to notice, but I recognized her and the knight from back when your sister came to visit. I thought I was imagining things, but everything kept falling into place. And then you became Zero."

"How—Who else knows?" he asked. Everything was going wrong. Nobody was supposed to know.

"I collected all the magazines as soon as I could. Alex is pissed at the mail for losing it, but he doesn't know. Roy's too uptight to even bother reading one and he's not going to go digging. Guess he's smarter than me. And Pablo's suspicious, but he's half convinced it's some weird Brit thing."

Footsteps crunched and they fell silent, turning to watch Henry approach with his hand on his gun. He had heard their conversation and Lelouch flinched. What orders had the Emperor given him? Because Henry's eyes were hard and there was no trace of their previous camaraderie in his posture.

"Does he know?" Henry asked. The question wasn't friendly.

"You know?" Frederick asked, surprised. "Didn't think he would tell anyone."

Henry drew his gun and Lelouch leaped forward to stand between them.

"Henry, no. Put down the gun," Lelouch ordered.

"Nobody is supposed to know," Henry said.

"Frederick is not a threat. You know him. He would never hurt one of us."

Henry scowled. "Step aside. He has relations to E.U. defectors. Him knowing compromises your safety."

"What the hell!" Frederick shouted. "You can't believe—What's wrong with you! You've been acting strange since you got back. And don't talk about my family. You know nothing."

"Your cousin's granddaughter, Thea Robinson, worked as a maid. June 1999, she aided the Breisgaus in defecting to the E.U. The initial investigation cleared the rest of your family, but in 2006, your aunt reached out to her granddaughter. After her passing, your mother continued to stay in contact,"—Henry paused—"committing treason."

Frederick paled, breaking his rigid posture. "How—"

"Enough, Henry," Lelouch said. His parents had obviously done some digging. "Has there been an arrest warrant? No? Then back off. Frederick has done nothing and your paranoia is more likely to cause trouble."

Henry grudgingly holstered his gun. "I won't fail again. I'm staying."

The Emperor must have done something.

"Someone explain?" Frederick pleaded.

If Lelouch wanted to, he could expose the entire sham; Henry integrating himself into the group with orders to keep an eye on Lelouch. It would destroy their friendship and the others would notice and assume Henry had done something wrong.

So, he lied, "After his rescue attempt, my father assigned him to be my bodyguard. Unfortunately, Henry is a bit overenthusiastic." Lelouch inclined his head. "And Frederick, I'm sorry for the background check. That was never my intention."

"Understood," Frederick said, but his muscles remained coiled and his eyes darted between him and Henry.

"You can relax." Lelouch glared at Henry. "He won't do anything."

"Lel—Your Highness," Frederick said and Lelouch cringed, "I can't. You could order my execution and nobody would stop you." His face paled even further. "We failed to protect you at the bar. We let a prince be kidnapped. How aren't we dead?"

It was Henry who failed in his task, not his friends, who were caught unaware. Even Lelouch should have known better, kept his guard up, noticed the sedative in the food. He had been too hung up on Edgar's death and left himself vulnerable. It wasn't their fault. Who expected to be poisoned? Lelouch was the one who should have known.

"It wasn't your fault," Lelouch said. "I don't blame you."

Frederick opened and closed his mouth, before finally relaxing. "It's not your fault either.. idiot." He flinched. "My apologies, Your Highness."

"Nobody is supposed to know who I am... Just act like you always did. I'm still the same person."

"I'm sorry. It's not the same, Yo—Lelouch. But I'll try to act as you ordered." It hadn't been meant as an order, but Frederick still kneeled on the ground, formally. "It would be an honor to serve you."

Their easy friendship had been lost. Maybe they would forge something new, but it would always be colored by their respective rank. The only thing Lelouch could do was offer him protection because he knew the truth now and if his parents deemed him a threat, he would be eliminated. There was no going back.

Lelouch took a deep breath. "Do you accept being a member of my royal guard?"

Henry's eyes widened, but shut his mouth at Lelouch's glare.

This was Frederick's decision and the only way Lelouch could protect him. While he could do nothing for his family, if the charges of treason were ever pursued, he could shield Frederick from the fall out. The royal guard answered only to their liege and were only charged with a crime after their dismissal. All complaints would have to be first presented to Lelouch.

"I do," Frederick finally said.

* * *

**Ashford Academy, Area 11**

The week passed in tense silence as Nunnally avoided both Milly and Allie. She didn't know what to say to Milly because she realized the words were true. Lelouch had always been the angry and outspoken one who would even backtalk the Emperor. She had tried so hard to move on and live a normal life because that was what she wanted. Or thought she wanted.

Normal life outside of the royal court was fun. People didn't wear masks upon masks or forge relationships to exploit the other. Everything was simple. All one had to do was keep their head down and accept Britannia's word as the truth.

Fingernails dug into her palm.

Her brother was their father's pawn, robbed of his own agency. Suzaku was dead because they had left him all alone in a war zone. Britannian culture encouraged the powerful to destroy the weak.

The world needed to change. If she refused to act then she was just as complicit. What was the point of being born as a princess, if she never used her station to do anything?

Allie shuffled into the room. "Do you want to get lunch?"

"Of course," Nunnally said and relaxed her hand

They sat on a new bench, a small hamburger in each of their hands. The silence stretched between them.

"So?" Nunnally asked, hesitantly.

Allie groaned. "This week sucked. Never ignore me like that again."

"Of course," Nunnally said. Did that mean her friend would listen and stay? She swallowed. "Your answer?"

"Tell me." Allie nudged her shoulder. "I didn't need a week to decide that. Life is so much more boring without you. You're not going to scare me off."

"You sure?" Nunnally's stomach clenched and she took a deep steadying breath. There would be no turning back. She felt sick. "I'mNunnallyviBritannia."

"Repeat that? Because I could've sworn... "

Wincing, Nunnally repeated, "Nunnally vi Britannia."

"Your mother is the Emperor's Executioner? The Flash?" Allie stood up and began to pace. "But, I met your mother. She had blond hair... and seemed normal. Absolutely terrifying, but sort of like when Gwen brought home her first boyfriend and Mom spent the entire time sharpening her knives. Except your mother doesn't have to do anything to be scary."

"She bleached her hair," Nunnally explained, unsure how else to respond.

Allie groaned and sat down. "I still don't like your mother. She looks down on everyone."

"She's very judgmental and always thinks she's right... but she apologized to my brother. I don't think she ever did that before."

"Your brother... who is a prince. Didn't he call his father a bastard, a presumptive asshole, and on one memorable occasion, a cross between a hyena and a crocodile that makes babies cry on instinct?"

"Let's not repeat those," Nunnally said. "Even if they're all sort of true."

"Even the last one?"

"He's..." Nunnally winced, recalling various half-forgotten memories and stories. "Really, really bad with kids."

"I don't think I want to know," Allie finally said. "You and Lelouch are alright, but I still think the rest of the royal family is conceited.

As long as her friend didn't hate her, Nunnally wouldn't mind. "You're taking this surprisingly well."

"It's not like you've changed. You're more down to Earth than most people here. I've seen Lelouch make an utter fool of himself trying to avoid Rick. But he did enlist, right? He's not an officer. Like... Why do all of this? You didn't have to, right?"

Nunnally frowned and shivered as the cold wind picked up. Quickly, she recounted the assasination and the invasion. Finally, she said, "We really didn't want anything to do with our parents. So Lelouch enlisted to appease our father and allow me to go to school."

"I'm sorry that happened to you. I... I can't imagine it." Allie grasped her hand. "Lelouch actually killed someone? I just—He's the definition of harmless and always polite and nice to everyone."

"I still don't know _how _everyone can see him as harmless. He's a soldier now and everyone talks about his manners. He's killed people."

Allie snorted. "Everything about him screams bookworm, not soldier. It's like all the benefits of being with someone who is military without all the drawbacks."

"We're alright then?" Nunnally asked. "I'm sorry that I lied."

"Well, I'd have laughed at your face or run away in the beginning. You're too... you. It's the rest of your family I'm having trouble wrapping my head around. They're just so public. We're alright, but I may have an existential crisis next morning."

Nunnally chuckled. "I'll make sure to prepare some oranges."

"You're so mean. Thought royalty was supposed to be nice."

"In what world?

Laughing nervously, Allie stood up. "Everything is normal, right?"

Nunnally nodded and then bit her lip. "Allie... This is dangerous for you."

"You made that quite clear last time and I had wonderful nightmares as a result. Although, I thought you were going to tell me you were secret French royalty."

"There's no French royal family," Nunnally grumbled.

"That's why they're secret French royalty."

"That's not—" Nunnally shook her head. "I wanted to say we should learn how to defend ourselves."

"Oh." Allie passed her the cane. "Of course. I won't let anything happen to you."

Nunnally smiled fondly. The lessons weren't for her, but for Allie. If she wanted to survive, then she needed to be able to defend herself against any possible assassin. It was too soon to broach the other topic.

Teasing another, they returned to Ashford. The week of silence forgotten and forgiven.

* * *

**712th Encampment, Outside Halifax**

Lelouch's mother had purged the officer rank, executing some for extreme negligence and misappropriation of Imperial funds, while others were stripped of their noble rank and demoted. Now, with barely any officers remaining, numerous lavish tents sat idly in storage and Lelouch requisitioned one along with Fortescue's desk for his own needs. If he were to pull off being both Zero and Lamperouge, then he needed his privacy to work in peace.

Ignoring the pile of paperwork on his desk and the stacks leaning against the side, Lelouch set down the mystery meal from the mess hall along with a bruised apple. His stomach growled, but quieted at the smell of goop and churned uncomfortably. He took a bite. It tasted like ash.

"Sergeant Malfoire," York announced himself and Lelouch shoved the nauseating meal aside as he allowed him to enter. "Good evening, Warrant Officer Lamperouge. A shrewd move to promote yourself, I must say."

Lelouch bit back a groan at the reminder. "York. Get to the point."

"The Crow. Instead of walking free, he should be in OSI custody. I understand that you have been busy"—he threw a pointed glance at the mounds of supply forms and personnel files—"but the situation will be rectified."

"No," Lelouch snapped. Knowing that eating would be futile, he grabbed Art's fifteen-page report on all French assets in Area Two. "Art is not walking free; he has an ankle monitor."

York didn't budge. "The OSI functions separately. All intelligence is my jurisdiction and your rank as Zero doesn't give you the authority to interfere."

"Let me be clear, York,"—Lelouch glared at York who thought he was still a scared child he could corral—"I despise you and the OSI. And I am well within my rights to order your execution as a prince of Britannia for your actions. The only reason I don't is because you'll undoubtedly be replaced by someone just as insufferable."

And the Emperor had said not to trust the OSI. York was a known quantity, who Alex would happily report on if his behavior deviated from the norm.

"You changed." York grinned. "Then what will my role be in your little fiefdom?"

Ignoring the bait, Lelouch said, "Before you send off any OSI reports, I will be reviewing them."

York narrowed his eyes. "That's almost treasonous. The OSI is independent for a reason."

"And the independence is unwarranted. The OSI fumbled in Area Two and through their incompetence, let the Count reign. You failed to keep order within the 712th as Fortescue destroyed all morale."

"I filed the proper paperwork," York snarled. "But Fortescue was nigh untouchable and I spent most of my time making sure he didn't accidentally, or not so accidentally, kill you. He knowingly ordered a mortar strike on your location, you know. And even my supposedly secure reports to your mother were being tampered with. I had to stay completely factual to ensure she received them and hide who she was interested in."

_Don't trust the OSI._

"Then you understand why I do not want the OSI's attention directed here. Rest assured, the Emperor has his own minder so he may stay informed of my activities." And Lelouch was trying really hard not to think of Henry and what his father had done to him. He was too distant.

"Very well. Your mother is requiring that I report to her verbally now which should alleviate my mail quandary until I discover the perpetrator. You should be receiving a phone for yourself as well."

"Ask Art for help," Lelouch suggested. They may be allies now, but Lelouch wasn't above some petty revenge. Both of them deserved to suffer at each other's hands. But if they managed to work together, the OSI didn't stand a chance. Art wouldn't turn down the chance at revenge and York was pissed that someone had interfered with his job.

"The Crow?"

"Did you know he ran the Count's intelligence network? Managed to keep it hidden from your colleagues and the OSI didn't even know when they questioned him. He's hardly a simple Crow."

"Yet, you let him walk free. Even if you don't trust the OSI, he should be questioned. Not trusted."

Lelouch shifted the paperwork to the side and considered the bruised apple. It wouldn't taste good, but there was no chance the apple was poisoned. Finally, he looked up again. "No more torture, York. It doesn't work anyway."

"It does," York refuted. "You just have to do it properly—"

"No." Lelouch sneered. "Find another way to do your job. Maybe do actual investigative work. Art has an ankle bracelet because I don't trust him not to run off, but he is useful as my new head of intelligence, so you'll let him be."

"That's the OSI—" York cut himself off. "Very well, sir. I will coordinate with the—with Art. Any additional orders or may I take my leave?"

"I want every OSI report you sent on my desk by tomorrow. Art will be updating me on your progress so should you partake in a stupidity competition with a pigeon, I will know. And promptly inform both of my parents. You're dismissed."

* * *

**Elden Villa, Area Two**

Lelouch closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. His back straightened. His stride became more fluid. His arms relaxed. Winter balls were rare, only marking important occasions, but defeating the Count was worthy of a celebration. From across Britannia, high ranking nobles flew in. The locals may have normally appreciated the extra revenue, but not now when Area Two lay in shambles.

This was such a waste.

But he was a prince, so he donned his costume of lavish silks with clever folds to pad his skinny frame and give him a stronger silhouette. Foundation obscured the unhealthy pallor to his skin and the bags beneath his eyes. He thanked his hair for growing cursedly fast which now allowed him to draw attention away from his previous military cut. As a precaution, he had also dyed it a sandy brown, like his father's hair in his youth, and prepared a ridiculous story where as a child he dyed his hair black to look like his mother.

There would be media hounds and to keep his identity safe, he needed to make sure that Lamperouge and vi Britannia looked as different as possible.

Ideally, he would have preferred to use some colored contacts, but his eye-color was too well known.

Lelouch stopped in front of Odysseus's new office and behind him, Henry—because he apparently needed a constant bodyguard now—snapped to attention. The guard before him gazed at his well tailored clothes in confusion.

"Vi Britannia," Lelouch said, mockingly.

The guard flushed and bowed deeply in apology. "A moment, Your Highness." He backed into the room and returned. "Prince Odysseus may see you now."

"Wait," Lelouch snapped at Henry and pretended he didn't see him stiffening in protest.

Without acknowledging the guard, Lelouch sauntered into the room and waited for the door to close.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow. "Lelouch, a pleasure to see you again although I admit that I am blindsided by your presence. And your new choice of hair color. "

The door latched and Lelouch relaxed. "Hello, Brother. I only wish to have a brief conversation before the excitement."

"I would love to, but"—Odysseus checked his watch—"I have a meeting momentarily. Perhaps after the festivities?"

"With Zero?" Lelouch asked.

"Yes. How did you know?"

He sat down and stared at his older brother in amusement. "Considering I'm Zero, it would be remiss of me not to remember my own appointments."

Odysseus slouched. "Of course, you are. Has Father gone mad?"

"Not anymore than usual," Lelouch said, snickering. "Let's move onto business, shall we?"

"Let me understand this. First, you enlist at age twelve. Now, you're Zero and defeated the Count. Care to fill in the gaps?"

"No," Lelouch replied, firmly. "The matter is between me and the Emperor. He ordered me to take care of our little Crow infestation by the end of the Spring and I need your help."

Odysseus grimaced. "Can I convince you to pursue more civilian pursuits?"

"We're royals." Lelouch rolled his eyes. "There are no civilian pursuits." More seriously, he continued, "I wish to extend amnesty to all Crows. Only treasonous actions the day after will be charged."

"I cannot do that." Odysseus folded his hands together. "Even if I convince the Viceroy, Father will never hear of it."

"Tell him I am responsible. He gave me the power to be Zero and to do what is necessary to stop these terrorists. This is essential."

"It's impossible—" Odysseus began, but paused as Lelouch passed him a folded piece of paper. "What is this?"

"Every E.U. operative in Area Two with their last known location and/or how to get in contact with them. I also have a list of suppliers smuggling for the E.U. on the side. Consider it a gift."

Odysseus set the list down and leaned back with a speculative look in his eyes. "How did you get this information?"

"Unimportant, but if you pardon the Crows, I have an admittedly smaller list of Chinese operatives."

"You could have gone to Schneizel... He actually has the influence to do as you wish and the resources to act upon it."

Lelouch smirked. "You're the Crown Prince."

"And Schneizel will be the Emperor." Odysseus narrowed his eyes. "Unless you are intending to make a play for the throne, which I would highly advise against."

"Absolutely not. I have enough paperwork as is. When the time comes I will happily disappear and let everyone else squabble over the pieces when you abdicate. If you don't, I will be your tool to help reform the Empire."

Odysseus snorted. "You mean the puppetmaster."

"No. Frankly, it takes an astonishing amount of skill to come across as average, yet extremely likable while pushing through most of the Empire's innovative policies."

Shifting, he protested, "Schneizel is far more cunning and suited to lead. I've understood for a long time that my younger siblings will outshine me. Schneizel with his intellect, Guinivere with her social skills, Cornelia with her prowess in battle. Now even you are shaping to be something."

"And the word Emperor did not once cross your lips. Among the commoners, my mother and yourself are the only ones whose names aren't spoken consistently with disdain. Nobility is an antiquated system which breeds corruption. People deserve a leader who sees the value in everyone."

"Careful, Lelouch," Odysseus warned as he leaned forward.

Lelouch trudged on regardless. "Britannia does not need another Emperor like our father. His tactics are already changing to adapt to new needs within the Empire, which is to gather support amongst the commoners. You are the one best suited to lead afterwards. And if Father saw you as worthless, he would have changed the order of succession already.

"Or he is lazy."

Once, Lelouch would have agreed with the assessment, but his mother's words left the impression of a much more driven man. What mask did the Emperor wear? More likely, he left the order of succession alone because Britannia wasn't ready for the bloodbath that would result from royalty fighting another to earn a spot closer to the throne. But that wouldn't convince Odysseus.

"My mother would be dragging him into more movie marathons if that was the case. And she considers the majority of his work useless." Lelouch thought of his sister and forced a fond grin. Let Odysseus think that his parents' baffling relationship gave him greater insight into their behaviors.

Odysseus rolled a fountain pen between his fingers and looked out of the window. "I do not have the power base to hold onto the throne. Any move to consolidate power will lead to a swift assassination. The important nobles understand Schneizel will be the Emperor and have accepted the idea. He supports their traditions, while I'm well known for unorthodoxy. I chose to support Schneizel long before you were born because I understand my weaknesses. Occasionally, like now, I wonder if I made the wrong decision, but the time to change my mind has long passed."

What made him doubt his decision? Lelouch hid a frown. He had thought Odysseus's unwillingness to become the Emperor was due to self-esteem, but "chose" implied that he deliberated on who to support. Any doubt now would imply he found new faults with Schneizel or had found a better candidate.

"Send me to do the legwork. I will support your bid to the throne and you assist me when I have requests as Zero. All anyone will see is a little upstart prince who thinks they can play in the big leagues."

Odysseus looked uneasy. "This is not a game. If anyone sees what you are doing, they will send countless assassins after you."

"What sort of person would I be if I did nothing to achieve my goals? I will move without your help although my life is more likely to be cut short then. Enlisting has protected me from the various assassins already targeting me and I am taking new measures which will help ensure my safety."

Like having Henry and Frederick as guards.

"You're fourteen," Odysseus snapped. "You have all the time in the world!"

"And I could die tomorrow. Then I will have done nothing."

He pinched his nose and sighed. "Stubbornness is apparently genetic... I can waive the charge of treason, but all the Crows will still have to serve time for any actual crimes they committed. I have some weight with the local judges which will help expedite and reduce the sentences. This only applies to Crows who surrender in the first week. Are those conditions acceptable?"

"Perfect," Lelouch said, glad that Art's condition was finally met. "Secondly, I would like to seize the Count's house."

"Excuse me? Whatever for?"

"I don't have the necessary funds"—Lelouch shrugged—"and have found myself in the business of selling furniture. Afterwards, I would also like to turn it into a proper orphanage with necessary oversight. Preferably, there will be no nobles involved in the day to day affairs. Call it a peace gesture to the masses."

Odysseus nodded. "Anything else?"

"A word of warning, I will be arresting various nobles and bringing them to trial. You should make your announcement to the Crows after the first trial goes through."

"I will keep that in mind. Would you have a list?"

"I can forward one to you, but all will be charged. A significant number consorted with the Crows making this a military operation and within my jurisdiction." Lelouch leaned back and debated whether to broach the second subject. It would cost him and potentially burn the goodwill he garnered with Odysseus. "Lastly, I have a suggestion."

Odysseus raised an eyebrow.

"Broaden the possible job opportunities for the Honorary Britannians. Currently, many accept inhumane working conditions because it is the only option."

"And where would they work? There isn't a huge demand for Numbers in other jobs."

"Doctors," Lelouch countered. "I am also sure Lord Ashford will also be delighted to legally employ scientific experts from various fields and so will other liberal companies."

"Much like yourself, the Office of Welfare is rather cash strapped. I do not have the funds to push this through." Odysseus tapped his pen along the desk. "Fifty-million pounds."

A test. If Lelouch could scrounge up the cash, not only would he help the Numbers, but also prove his worth to Odysseus. "It will be done."

Kaguya was on the ball's guest list. He only needed to convince her to make a generous donation.

"Take your time, Lelouch. It was a pleasure meeting with you, but I have a phone call to make before the party starts." Odysseus waved him out.

"Thank you for your assistance." He stood and bowed formally.

* * *

**Elden Villa, Area Two**

Unlike other high ranking lords, Reuben always had a habit of arriving at parties early. The early hours, where only barons, viscounts, and the occasional disgraced Earl socialized, was a wonderful opportunity to collect information or find unknown talent. Without a predator, the minor nobles talked freely. Too often, they forgot Reuben was there, which suited him fine.

He had gained substantial power without the political jostling that led to everyone being wary of his face. Were Oberstein to arrive early, the room would fall deadly silent. Everyone knew he was not a man to be crossed.

But as he eavesdropped and watched his granddaughter dance across the room, he was surprised to discover that Lelouch had also arrived early.

Holding a glass of champagne, Reuben introduced himself to the small group of gossiping nobles. "Excuse me, did you say His Highness was here?"

The younger lord, not experienced enough to mask his feelings, wrinkled his nose and gestured to the wall. "Not Prince Odysseus, but Prince Lelouch. Obviously takes after his mother with those manners."

That _was_ Lelouch, but last Reuben checked he had distinctive black hair.

"That is Lord Ashford," hissed the lady clinging to the young lord's arms. "Do not insult the Empress."

Reuben smiled genially. "Marianne was always hot headed."

The others relaxed and began to converse among themselves, soon joined by more nobles that Lelouch would subtly insult. Reuben was sure the boy could be charming if he wanted to be, which meant he was scheming. Or his kidnapping had a bigger impact than Marianne thought.

Then came the rumors of Zero who was supposedly in a meeting with Prince Odysseus. An old decorated war hero who had faked his death until the Emperor pleaded for him to return. A noble from the Chinese Federation who had recognized the might of Britannia and defected. Prince Schneizel.

And every rumor was somehow corroborated by Lelouch himself. Reuben suspected that Marianne had left something out about Lelouch's involvement in Area Two.

"Grandfather," Milly whined and he raised an eyebrow, letting her lead him away. "I'm bored and Lelouch is just being rude."

Scheming indeed.

Reuben narrowed his eyes as Oberstein stepped into the room. "Milly. I'm sure he'll apologize the next time you are in private, but he is being rude to everyone."

"Can we leave then?"

"No. It would be rude to depart before Prince Odysseus's arrival," Reuben said. Oberstein stopped to introduce himself to Lelouch. "Behave yourself. You're the Ashford heir."

"And we make war machines."

He winced, reminded of the argument before they left when he refused to answer Milly's questions. She was too young and innocent to understand. She had never seen death and been sheltered from it her whole life. Milly had shot back that Nunnally was younger and understood. She didn't understand that both Nunnally and Lelouch had experienced things no child should. To her, they were her happy friends. But Nunnally had shattered the illusion in a moment of anger.

How many times had Nunnally thanked him with a kind smile while remembering the devastation his weapons brought to Japan? How many times had she celebrated Britannia and her parents in the classroom while despising them for their actions? How many times had she laughed at Numbers as expected of her while mourning her childhood friend?

It worried him. Lies took a toll on a person.

Oberstein approached, having finished his brief chat with Lelouch.

"Collect information, Milly and I'll sponsor your gingerbread houses," Reuben said.

"Big houses!" she ordered, but took off, acting like a noble lady befitting of her station.

Oberstein stopped beside him and watched her begin to mingle. "Most children her age would find such an event tedious."

"Proper motivation does wonders," Reuben answered.

"Houses?"

"Gingerbread houses." Reuben frowned slightly as Miss Sumeragi in a childish, pink, Britannian dress approached Lelouch. Throughout the evening, she had been making a fool of herself.

"Will you marry me?" Miss Sumeragi's voice carried across the room, drawing attention.

"Absolutely not," Lelouch said clearly.

"Please?"

"No."

Their childish argument continued and Oberstein chuckled. "The two devious, little devils have everyone in this room wrapped around their fingers. Impressive for their age."

Reuben shrugged, but didn't deny it.

The music began to play and Lelouch made a show of offering a dance to end her requests. Some nobles laughed and shook their heads in amusement. In a span of a few minutes, both had reinforced the notions that both were childish and therefore not a threat.

"Have you heard of Zero?" Oberstein asked as they watched the two dance.

"It is the main conversation topic of the night."

"They are probably claiming he is some sort of noble, yet the commoners believe Zero is one of them. Most nobles would not have bothered to evacuate the city."

"An accurate assessment for having only arrived," Reuben said.

"Yet in that time, I have heard he is the cause for Prince Odysseus's delay. He usually does not keep his guests waiting. An interesting alliance. But only time will tell how that develops. " Oberstein grabbed a champagne glass. "I hear you are having trouble with the Purists in Area Eleven."

"We have our disagreements, but I would not consider it trouble," Reuben lied. In response to turmoil in Area Two, they were pressuring Reuben to subcontract policing in Tokyo to their guards. It was political jostling; Tokyo had one of the lowest crime rates. The Elevens knew he was generous and took great pains to police themselves and not draw his attention. The Purist interference would disturb that peace.

"Less trouble for you than for me, I suppose. Listening to Lord Greenford complain about yourself, while amusing, is beginning to be rather tedious."

"Should I pay the Purists to make trouble in my city?"

Oberstein chuckled. "No. I will pay for them myself. A little trouble would be beneficial as well. Tokyo has the lowest percentage of Numbers attempting to become Honorary Britannians which is worrisome for assimilation."

If Britannia's goal was assimilation, then their approach would be more similar to the E.U. Although they had the advantage of claiming to save the refugees they took in.

"Why the sudden generosity?" Reuben asked.

"Schneizel offered a research position to Lloyd Asplund, Eccentricity aside, he is a phenomenal engineer and now that he has proper funding, a deadly knightmare frame will follow. One that can only be used by an ace. The disturbing trend of custom knightmare frames undermine my production capabilities. I need a mass produced frame where an ace can have an almost fair chance against a custom knightmare. Preferably, it would be cheap as well."

Not mentioned was that other countries were developing frames and the government was paying the bill. As it stood, only pilots from wealthy families or with wealthy patrons could afford to be a pilot knightmare. If the state of affairs continued, Britannia would have a few overpowered singular units and be overrun by the enemy's hundreds of low quality frames.

"I will consider the proposal," Reuben acquiesced.

Oberstein bowed and drifted away, talking to other nobles. And finally, Odysseus arrived with a broad smile that revealed nothing about his delay. The celebrations were underway. More champagne bottles opened. The music swelled.

In the corner, Reuben spotted Lelouch and another boy, presumably his guard, watching in concern.

"Your Highness, how is your health?" he asked.

Lelouch straightened and the tension drained from his frame. Another champagne bottle popped and he flinched. "I'm doing well. My mother wouldn't have it another way. Although, if I could spare a moment of your time, that would be much appreciated."

"So polite, yet how many nobles have you snubbed this night alone? But I will always have time for you." Reuben was happy to provide a needed distraction.

Instead of making small talk, Lelouch began to outline plans for a Hospital in Tokyo. Unlike others, it would serve both Numbers and Britannians at the same price. The plan was not terribly detailed, but Reuben asked questions nonetheless.

"While an interesting endeavor, the costs will be massive. How will your proposal benefit the Ashford family?" he asked as they finally finished discussing how the hospital would operate.

"Research," Lelouch said, curtly. "If the hospital is built, an amendment will soon follow which will remove restrictions on Number employment. You will be able to hire skilled laborers without any legal repercussions."

"What are you scheming now?" Reuben couldn't see how it would help the boy. He was still in the army and his sister would have access to the best medical care Britannia could offer if she was injured. But it would benefit Miss Sumeragi and Lelouch had danced with her, engaging her in a conversation.

"Only a hospital."

Reuben's eyes narrowed, before he shook his head exasperatedly. "You've been scheming the moment you stepped into the ballroom. Do you not tire of lying with every breath?"

Lelouch swallowed. "The truth is too shocking, but my parents expect me to act like a prince... and so I will. But it is an act."

"Lelouch..." Reuben sighed. An act. Just like his sister, Lelouch hid his feelings. This was because of the invasion and what they had seen. "There will be a hospital. But you know it is alright to grieve?"

Lelouch stared at him in confusion.

"Do you hate me for my role in Area Eleven?" Reuben asked. Suddenly, he needed to know. Science was his passion and the knightmare his greatest achievement. But Nunnally hated him. His granddaughter was questioning him. He had caused so much destruction from families torn apart and cities razed to the ground. But Lelouch would understand. Such things were necessary in war.

The only way to end the cycle was to win.

"Have a wonderful evening, Lord Ashford," Lelouch replied, bowing politely. "I look forward to your hospital."

The question remained unanswered.

* * *

**Royal Palace, New Pendragon**

Setting aside various reports, Charles massaged his brow. There were too many inconsistencies with the Count. She should never have acquired as many resources as she did, not without significant help from nobles. Various nobles had sent her gifts, bribes, to avoid their own business dealings. Others paid her to attack their rivals.

Fifteen noble families wiped out. Eight of them staunch supporters of his during the Emblem of Blood. Three others with connections to the Geass Order.

Charles did not believe in coincidences.

Someone was meddling and their intentions were unknown. A coup was possible, almost expected, considering history. But Charles had only heard the usual whispers and grumbling. The nobles were still too cowed by the execution of Seymour and his conspirators. None would risk their life of comfort on some quest of justice.

Most likely, they were a foreign agents pulling at various strings. Yet, no foreigners knew of Geass. When he took the throne, he had interrogated C.C. relentlessly on the matter and tracked down all associates of her former contractors. Dead lips could not tell suspicious tales.

Regardless, his meddler knew of Geass.

As for Lelouch... He had broken through his Geass. Seen something Charles had intended to be forgotten.

That day, blinded by rage, he had entered the room and interrogated the assassin. Too late, he had realized that Lelouch hadn't passed out, but was watching him with silent, fearful eyes. He should have realized then that the brat would live to defy expectations. From Area Eleven and deciding to leave the safety of the shrine so he could protect his Eleven friend. A boy who they never found. To breaking through his Geass and taking command, while only half lucid, in order to defeat the Count.

Lelouch hadn't stopped there. Instead of taking the time to rest and heal, he had convinced the Crow to spill his secrets and saved him from execution. Within a week, he had reorganized the division to exclude noble officers. The Count had failed to break his son's spirit and instead lit a fire which refused to let the boy rest.

Odysseus had spent a solid hour berating him for letting Lelouch enlist and then allowing him to become Zero. But then, Odysseus unexpectedly asked him to keep Schneizel busy for the next few months. Despite Charles's continued efforts to turn Odysseus into a worthwhile successor, he had clung to his mediocrity and refused to leave Schneizel's shadow.

Something had changed. Given Odysseus a reason to act against Schneizel's desires.

And once again, Lelouch was the cause.

The boy was plotting but not because of some selfish desire, but to protect the division. Undoubtedly, he would try to slip his leash, but as long as Charles held the lives of his men in his hands, Lelouch would obey. His loyalty made him weaker than Schneizel who turned on allies when it benefited him.

A knock on the door.

"Come on in, Marianne," Charles said and looked up in surprise as Schneizel walked into the room.

Schneizel stopped in front of his desk. "Father. I need to speak to Zero. His actions—"

"—Are of no concern of yours."

His eyebrows drew together. "Zero is abusing your authority. His raids on nobility—"

"—Are necessary. Zero is hunting terrorists and if the nobles supported the Count, then they are also his target. I trust him to exercise proper judgment."

Lelouch would do whatever was necessary to save his men and only stop if Charles personally intervened. Another general, a noble, would hesitate to target nobility and instead terrorize the commoners. Lelouch had no such qualms, which suited Charles perfectly. If nobles thought to collude against Britannia, they would die.

Taking a deep breath, Schneizel tested his patience. "If you trust him, then why does he hide his face? The people will not trust some nameless and faceless entity."

"The nobles won't, you mean," Charles said derisively. Perhaps he was spending too much with Marianne and listening to her rant about their incompetence. Peace had made them complacent. "Actions speak louder than words for the commoners. Much like the Count earned their admiration through victories, so does Zero. Not only did he defeat the Count, but he minimized civilian casualties. A name would give the commoners a past to critique, but Zero has no such weaknesses."

Schneizel sneered. "And when he fails?"

"Then Zero is no more," Charles said, waving his hand dismissively. "You should worry less about military affairs, Schneizel. I have dealt with them long before you were born."

"And how am I supposed to learn if you never give me an opportunity?" Schenizel asked, bringing up an age old argument.

Perhaps if Odysseus hadn't called, Charles would have finally relented. Given up on his eldest son as a lost cause and relinquished some of the military power that allowed him to control the Empire. But Odysseus had called and finally asked for something not directly relating to his humanitarian causes. All Charles needed to find was the proper motivation, although frustratingly, Lelouch had stumbled on it first.

No. There was no need to give Schneizel more leeway. He already has his various research projects with military applications. If his Lancelot project ever functioned, he would have significantly more sway with the military.

"Maybe you should convince Odysseus instead. He is the Crown Prince," Charles said and watched in amusement as Schneizel struggled to remain impassive. He was still too easy to anger. "As you obviously have too much free time if you are concerning yourself with military affairs, you will negotiate with the E.U. for the extradition of Britannian criminals. Zero captured numerous French spies which will be a tantalizing trade."

Even those who sought asylum with the E.U. would not escape Britannian justice. It was only a matter of time.

"Father, surely someone else—"

"Is the task beneath you?"

Schneizel bowed. "No, Father. I will do as you say."

His son, sufficiently cowed for now, left.

Marianne rolled through the doorway and shook her head. "I think you may have upset him. You wanted to see me?"

Charles nodded. Within the office, they were no longer husband and wife, but rather liege and their knight. "According to V.V., our favorite witch has been missing for almost a year."

"C.C. wanders off at times. Remember when she disappeared for two years and we finally tracked her to Rome?"

"Yes," Charles groaned. He had to send a black-ops team to retrieve her after she got arrested for breaking into a pizza factory. Frustratingly, she could have freed herself at any time. "But unlike last time, she hasn't been using her credit card. So either she vanquished her pizza obsession or found someone else to mooch off."

"Or someone finally captured her," Marianne said. "Most likely, it's a new contractor, she gets bored easily."

"I would agree…" But there were too many inconsistencies and Charles had enough. Unfortunately, his wife was not going to be pleased. "V.V. only thought to inform me after I specifically enquired about her. Additionally, Lelouch remembered something from the assassination attempt; V.V.'s agent was going to kidnap Nunnally. The OSI also failed in Area Two and tampered with mail which enabled the Count to work unnoticed.V.V.—My brother's treachery may be greater than imagined. I thought it was petty jealousy... but something more may be afoot."

Marianne waited silently.

"I need you to use your Geass to infiltrate the Directorate. I will—" He swallowed. "I will make preparations to take his code. He is no longer the brother who promised to never lie."

She took a shaky breath. "We don't know what my Geass will do should it evolve. A risk if I'm using it so frequently."

"You'll be hopping between your host and Pendragon. We'll be keeping a close eye on your Geass and making occasional public appearances to keep V.V. from being suspicious. Additionally, Cornelia will take your position in the military and will lead the conquest of new areas. She and Schneizel will serve as a distraction for V.V. as I will ask him to keep an eye on them. Unfortunately, I don't have anyone else with the skill set required that I can trust."

Especially because his Geass was not infallible. Lelouch had broken through, suggesting that others could do the same. He would have to be more careful.

A bloodthirsty grin crossed her face. "I will find out what the weasel is up to."

That had been… easy. "Good."

Her smile turned sickeningly sweet. "You will take care of the kids."

* * *

**712th Encampment, Near Toronto**

Next to his flickering lamp, Lelouch finished folding the last paper boat and placed the small lightweight candle inside. The water was eerily calm compared to the loud bustling of the camp behind him. Everything was going according to plan. Tomorrow they would march west to strike at new pockets of resistance and with every victory, Zero's fame grew.

But Edgar was dead. He would have loved to work in the newly planned hospital of Tokyo.

Suzaku was probably dead. If he was alive, Lelouch could never acknowledge him, but hopefully the work program would allow him to survive.

And he sacrificed thirty men to defeat the Count. Their comrades would never have to suffer a noble's incompetence again.

Thirty-two paper boats.

Lelouch lighted each candle and set them down on the still lake. Slowly, they drifted from shore. He turned off the lamp.

The pinpricks of light bobbed in the cold night. Each one burning fiercely with potential.

"Hey," Alex whispered, dropping a blanket over his shoulders. "Couldn't sleep again?"

"I had to do this."

Alex turned on the lamp again and stared at the calm lake with the dancing lights. "Teach me?"

In the morning, the boats would be gone, swallowed by the water. But now, under the cover of darkness, Lelouch taught those who asked and they taught another. Until the lake became a starry sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> And FINIS! (Ok, not really. I still have two books to go)
> 
> Thank you everyone for sticking with me so far. On FFN, we just passed 200 reviews and favorites. On A03, we have over 150 kudos and comments. I really didn't imagine this fic would do so well when I started, so it warms my heart.
> 
> Book two keeps with my King Arthur naming scheme and is called: The Witch in the Lake
> 
> I've been writing for almost a year now and pretty consistently. Whenever I had free time, I wrote instead of watching stuff, playing games, or reading. Therefore, there's a year-long backlog of fun stuff to do. As a result, I'm going to be taking a small break and try not to touch Excalibur for a month. Not sure how successful I'll be since the longest I've not worked on this fic in some form was for three days (besides my break due to covid which ended after 2 weeks because I got bored).
> 
> On September 18/19 (depending on timezone), I'll be posting The Witch in the Lake and an epilogue for this fic to alert everyone who is following/subscribed. Apparently, that was the day I posted chapter one and I'm enjoying the symmetry.
> 
> The next book will be having a slightly different set of main POVs and give more time to canon characters. I will say that I'm treating everything that doesn't happen in the original anime as non-canon (especially the worldbuilding), but some of the characters may show up if I find a use for them. The flying knightmare armies of r2 is also not happening.
> 
> I would love to hear from all my readers. Even if it's incoherent or a simple smiley face. My goal is to improve as a writer so critique is also welcome, especially as I'm starting book two and can tackle those issues then. Asking me questions actually helps a lot because I learn where I wasn't clear enough. I also love answering them.
> 
> I will see you September 18/19 or on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj )  
Thank you x1tears1X on FFN for your help with betaing.


	37. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story Summary: Lelouch's mother may have survived, but the Emperor still sees him as a pawn. It doesn't matter if he submits or fights for his independence, Lelouch's hands will be sullied by blood. His father's will is absolute and Britannia rests on the graves of innocents. Book 1 of Excalibur

**712th Division Base Camp, Area Two**

The bus stopped before a bland and hastily constructed gate with two lone soldiers standing guard. Katsuro Ban curled his lips. Already, he wished he was still in Japan. The glowering guard at the head of the bus snapped at him to disembark and, after checking his pocket for his ID paper and the smuggled photo of his family, he prepared to face his doom.

Everything had gone wrong. The carefully laid plan he and his friends formed was now ashes in the wind like his hometown. Britannia had burned Kagoshima and with it, his home, and his family. To think he was the only survivor because of a miss-timed business trip. 

A soldier waved him towards another group of Numbers huddled around a crackling fire in the snow. Fives, Sixes, Sevens, and now, an Eleven. Were they all the same to the Britannians? 

Katsuro's lip curled as he looked at his supposed new comrades and the worn lines in their face. They weren't the same. He was an accountant... had been. He knew what it meant to be free; they only knew how to serve.

His number, 793, was called and he trudged through the powdered snow to sit at a desk, while a Number observed him.

"Welcome to the 712th," the Number said as his pen scratched over the forms. Leaning back, he grabbed a stapled packet. "Read through these. Rules. Regulations. Everything you need to know. Sleep with it."

Katsuro accepted it and frowned. When he had enlisted, signed his name over to become an Honorary Britannian, there had been no such process. Just a Britannian soldier who threw a uniform two sizes too large at him before locking him into a barrack. There had been no rules, just obedience enforced with ever growing bruises. His leg throbbed in memory.

"Name?" the Number asked.

"793," Katsuro replied dutifully. The rebellious part of him remained deeply buried, locked down by chains of discipline and self-preservation. 

The pen stopped scratching. Never a good sign. "I asked for your name, not your ID."

"I'm just a Number. 793." It was unfair for another Number to play this game, but what did he expect? They were still Britannians. Had grown up as Britannians. They were not his allies and for his insubordination he had been sent out of Japan so he could die surrounded by the enemy. It was only a matter of time, but first Britannia would suck the last drop of life from him.

The Number sighed and grabbed another stack of papers. "Fine. We'll update it later. Read through these. Then sign. Standard consequences. Talk to anyone and die. But we get a raise, so it's worth it."

There was no "we," but Katsuro took the papers regardless and scanned a surprisingly boilerplate non-disclosure agreement. And then the second paper, an NDA for the previous NDA. Anticipation and curiosity peaked their shameful heads and Katsuro shoved them back in the chest where they belonged. Now was not the time. Not with eyes boring into him and dissecting every breath he took. Everyone here was his enemy and the only way to survive was to pretend to be them. And a Number would sign, no questions asked. So he did.

The Number smiled and tore off the bright yellow receipt, returning it to him. Then he was whisked away through a more familiar intake process. Height, weight, combat assessment. 

...

His new squadron was laughing when he entered their tent. A familiar camaraderie hung between them and they abruptly fell quiet as they caught sight of him, reaffirming he was not one of them. 

A dark skinned man approached him. "Your bedroll is over there. The box by it is for personal stuff. Nobody will touch it unless the Sergeant is doing an inspection. So keep it tidy and we won't have a problem. Training is in five, by the flagpole. Don't be late."

The rest of the squadron left, leaving Katsuro alone in the tent with precious seconds ticking by. Curious, he opened the box. It was empty except for a flask and a small hand drawn picture taped to the side. "For Daddy," it read and Katsuro shut the box, feeling as if he had intruded on something private. Which was ridiculous; it was his box. His own photo still carefully hidden in his jacket, he headed outside.

To Katsuro, training had come to mean one and only thing. An excuse for Britanian officers to vent their anger on fleshy targets. But when he joined his new squadron by the flagpole, he didn't find an overweight Britannian officer with a scowl, instead a sun kissed man laughing at a joke.

"Sergeant Sanchez is unfortunately at sick call. I'm avoiding paperwork so volunteered my time to whip you sorry lot into shape. For those who don't know me,"--he nodded at Katsuro--"I'm Staff Sergeant Pablo Vega. I deal with supplies and logistics. Piss me off... Well, I'm in charge of rations, your uniform, and weapons..."

With that ominous ending, Staff Sergeant Vega began training. His sharp eyes caught every mistake of Katsuro's but the familiar bruises did not follow. Instead, the mistakes were corrected and hammered in through tedious repetition. At the end, his body burned and every muscle ached, but everything was self-inflicted.

At mess-hall, one of his squad mates sat down beside him and extended their hand. "Sam Mitzi. Nice to meet you, Greenie."

He turned away, ignoring the offered hand and tried some of the surprisingly edible goop. 

"What's your name?" Mitzi asked slowly.

"Numbers don't have names," he grumbled back.

"Here we do, but if you want to be known as Greenie forever, be my guest. The others will take some time to warm up. Camilo... Didn't know him for long but they went through hell together. They'll warm up, don't worry." Mitzi clasped his shoulder. "So where's your accent from?"

Katsuro removed the offending limb from his shoulder. "Area Eleven."

"So what did you do to get sent to our wonderful division of death? Haven't met any Japanese yet."

The word brought a painful feeling of joy and he flinched, looking around and wondering who heard. "Don't say that where people can hear. It's Area Eleven."

Mitzi leaned back. "Forgot you're new. Probably would've been like you if I came in after. Was already strange enough with Gosling's mail scheme, but now he's in charge. Yeah... You'll get used to it. I believe in you, man."

A hand pulled him into a half sided hug and Katsuro peeled it away. "After what?"

"Right. Um... Wait a moment." Mitzi stood up and waved to the Staff Sergeant who was in deep conversation with a short, brown haired, Britannian child. 

Katsuro turned away from the strange sight and his hand gripped his fork until his knuckles turned white. Children. Whenever he thought they couldn't sink lower, they did. Britannians sent their own children off to war. Savages.

"Mr. No Name, 793, right?" A smooth voice asked and Katsuro's back straightened as he turned around, already knowing he would find a Brit. 

"Yes, sir," he whispered and cringed at how weak his voice sounded. It was best to sound neutral to not anger a Brit further. What had he done to attract attention? And Mitzi had said "division of death" which did not bode well for his own survival.

"Call me, Art," he said, flashing a smile which felt too honest and kind. A trap. "I like to put a face to all the new names, although in this case you're lacking one."

The English flowed too quickly from his lips and Katsuro struggled to keep up, processing each word, reordering, and translating them, trying to understand. The words didn't make sense. Come out right. There wasn't a command. And he was taking too long to respond which meant a punishment would follow.

"Yes, sir," he said, because that was safe.

Art, and that was a strange name, lost some of the shine in his eyes. His words became slower and more measured. "Why were you transferred to the 712th? Your file is rather sparse on the details."

"I..." Katsuro paused. Was Art telling the truth? Was he truly that lucky that some Britannian was too lazy to write down the real reason? Or did Art just want to hear his side of the story... Or more likely, want him to incriminate himself. "I don't know."

A safe answer again.

"Crow," Staff Sergeant Vega interrupted coldly.

Art rolled his eyes and Katsuro's heart hammered as he saw a Number sneer at a Britannian. This was not how things were supposed to be. Such flagrant disrespect would earn them all an overzealous punishment. 

"Pablo, be nice," chided Art as he rose. “Although since you’re here, perhaps you could tell me what happened to the socks I requested.”

"They’re reserved for non-carrion feeders like yourself."

"I thought we had an understanding. I don't interfere with your job; you don't interfere with mine."

Staff Sergeant Vega stepped forward without a hint of hesitation. "Do you have a note? And last I checked, your job just requires a pencil. Get out of my sight."

"He'd be so disappointed in you," Art tutted but stepped backwards, smoothing his uniform with a hint of distaste. Without another word, he left, the crowd parting before him as if his very presence was poison.

“Best to avoid him,“ Staff Sergeant Vega warned. “He’s only alive because Gosling thinks he’s useful. But once a Crow, always a Crow. If he steps a toe out of line, we’ll kill him.”

"Won't he retaliate?" Katsuro asked, because there were always consequences.

"No. Things are different here," Staff Sergeant Vega answered. "If anyone hurts you, inform me immediately. Gosling has no tolerance for that shit."

"Yes, sir," Katsuro answered, still not daring to believe there was decency in the Britannian world. How could there be when they burned his home to the ground without remorse. The promise of kindness felt cruel, but he had learned the rules of the game in Japan and would learn them here in Area Two.

Days of merciless training turned into weeks and at the end of the month, his squadron was finally cleared for active combat. His squad mates had slowly warmed up to him, but he made no effort to bridge the gap between them. They were not the same. 

The mission was simple, but surprising. A raid on a minor noble's house. As the platoon prepared, he heard whispers of the enigmatic commander named Gosling and jokes about upcoming home-cooked meals. Despite the anticipatory energy, they felt relaxed. So far, the promise of kindness had not been broken.

Mitzi, having at long last learned the meaning of personal space, stopped beside him. "What's the problem?"

"I don't know the signs. Yours are different."

"Are they? Damn... Forgot that ours are some weird mishmash. Only got worse after Antonia ruptured his ear drums and begged to stay. I'll remind the squadron to keep them simple. Here are the basic ones." Mitzi quickly went through a series of hand signs for simple commands.

Hesitantly, Katsuro repeated one he had seen repeatedly flashed throughout the day. "This one?"

"Zero."

"Why are people counting?" he asked. 

Mitzi burst into laughter. "Keep forgetting you're the Greenie. This is the number,"--he made a circle with his hand, and then switched to the sign in question--"and this is for the commander."

"His name is Zero?" Katsuro confirmed. Britannian names were weird.

"Probably not, but that's what the media calls him," Mitzi said.

A sharp whistle drew their attention, cutting the conversation short. As Katsuro jogged to join his squadron, he recalled the coverage of the Count's defeat--the despair at knowing Britannia would always win--and the excited whispers among the Britannians as they talked of the enigmatic commander. He could've sworn that they called him Zero. But that was ridiculous.

His immediate superior, Lance Corporal Juan Serbin, took their squadron aside and laid out the plan. "Don't discharge your weapons if you can. It will alert the guards. Understood?"

Richard Tovar leaned over the squiggly lines scratched into the snow dusted ground. "Why are we attacking the garage?"

"Just follow the plan, Richard. I don't know. I don't care. Gosling says we need to be there, so we will be." Lance Corporal Serbin crossed his arms and glowered at Tovar. "Anything else?"

"No, Lance Corporal," they chorused.

The attack started in the dead of the night under the darkness of a new moon. From Katsuro's understanding, there weren't enough night vision scopes in the last shipment. As a result, the scopes were handed to pairs. Mitzi was the eyes, leading the way, while Katsuro followed him, his eyes straining to see anything. Nervously, he gripped his rifle, jumping at every snap of a twig.

Abruptly, Mitzi stopped before him. "Wait for the signal."

Katsuro hoisted his rifle and his eyes could make out the eerie security light at the edge of the warehouse. Around him, muffled footsteps broke through the thin layer of ice.

"It's time," Mitzi whispered. 

They converged on the warehouse, bursting through the door. A lone guard jumped from his reclined chair, fumbling for his gun. Above him, towering monstrosities stared down at them and Katsuro swallowed heavily. Even in the dim light, he could make out the familiar forms of the knightmares. 

"Move and I shoot," Mitzi barked.

The guard raised the gun. "But you're Numbers?"

"And in the name of His Imperial Majesty, the House of Flegel is under arrest for treason."

The guard swallowed and dropped the gun. Raising his hand, he backed away. "I swear I don't know anything. I'm just a guard."

Tovar and his partner, Jorge, approached from the opposite end of the warehouse. "We have a problem. There are people here."

"I swear I didn't know," the guard cried. "I was just following orders. You have to believe me."

Katsuro sneered. Liar. 

Lance Corporal Serbin arrived moments later followed by a stream of people huddled together. "This wasn't in our intelligence. We need to get them out of here."

"I'll do it, Lance Corporal," Tovar said. "Nathaniel and I can make sure they get past the tree line. We'll pick them up after the operation and let Gosling decide what to do."

A baby began to wail and Katsuro averted his eyes. Why was he always surprised by how far Britannians could sink? They were honorless scum, all of them. 

He could imagine his wife and daughter standing there with bruised skin. For the first time he was grateful that they were gone and wouldn’t suffer. Britannia only brought endless suffering for the living.

"Do it," Lance Corporal Serbin ordered and then turned to the guard. "Quit yapping. You'll face judgement soon enough."

Heels clacked on the concrete floor and an unfamiliar man, dressed in finery approached. "Oh this is amusing. You think you're actually going to get away with this?" More boots thundered and armed men filed in behind the newcomer. "I think Numbers, you should stand down and beg for mercy before I gun you down for the animals you are."

Lance Corporal Serbin turned around, one hand behind his back rapidly flashing through unfamiliar hand signs and the other held out placatingly. "House Felgel stands accused of treason. Please, my lord, let us handle this diplomatically."

The man sneered. "You come into my lord's house and ask for a diplomatic solution. I see only traitors before me." He raised his hand. "Kill them."

"Do that and you die," Lance Corporal Serbin replied coolly as the knightmare frame resting on the side of the warehouse powered to life. 

"Fire," the man shouted before turning around and fleeing.

Kutsuro slammed into the ground, Mitzi dragging him down. Around them, the freed prisoners screamed as bullets tore through the air and Katsuro swallowed the rising bile. The ground shook as the knightmare stepped free from its platform and tore through the security force. But the man was already gone and around him, former prisoners bled.

"We need a medivac now! I've injured civilians. Three bleeding from..." Lance Corporal Serbin shouted as the rest of his men dispersed, attending to the injured.

Katsuro passed the Britannian guard, pale as snow with a look of disbelief etched into his face. He felt nothing. Not even the sweet taste of justice. The guard had deserved his death at the hands of his comrades. Rifle ready, Katsuro approached the fallen security guards. Some were still alive, begging. They bled just like their captives: red. And it was all for nothing. The man responsible wasn't among them

"We'll catch him," Mitzi promised. "He couldn't have gone far with the area surrounded. And Gosling has no patience for his kind."

"This happens often?"

"It's not the first time. Not always nobles but they have the easiest time covering it up or stonewalling an investigation."

Tovar joined them on the way back. "Brits are simply crazy. Must be something in their water. Nobody in my family would have the guts to declare war on the world."

"Your family doesn't have an army to back up that threat," Mitzi shot back. "It's greed. Plain and simple. Brits are the real pigs. Glutenous bastards."

"An insult to all pigs," Tovar complained. "At least a pig is useful."

Katsuro watched the interplay with a fond smile. Leaving Japan had never been the plan. Halfway around the world he could do nothing to avenge his family, but perhaps there were new allies to be found. And unlike serving under the Purists, he had yet to see any unfair consequences handed out. The rules were consistent and enforced by other Numbers. The few Britannians in the division barely interfering with the life of a private.

It would be so easy to disturb the peace and start something great. Already, the division hated the Brits. Unlike Katsuro, they had grown up under Britannia's boot, but he could see the embers of rebellion only needing to be fanned. The only problem was their almost fanatical loyalty to their commander. To the mysterious Gosling. A man who had saved the division from the Count. Who dared to stand up against nobles and weather the consequences.

Katsuro entered the tent quietly and began dissembling his rifle to clean each part. Years ago, he had worked with Britannians. Had faced them in board meetings as he stood behind his boss and presented financial projections for the next quarter. But Britannia had eradicated Kagoshima and scattered his family's ashes to the wind before he could return. 

There would never be compromise or peace.

"Serbin, a word," a cold voice interrupted and Katsuro looked up to observe one of the Britannian teens playing at military affairs. Already partaking in the path of bloodshed when children should be in school learning and studying. 

As quickly as the teen entered, he left, leaving a flustered Lance Corporal Serbin to rush after him. 

Katsuro scowled. "I guess it would be too much to expect a Brit to have manners. Or any respect for their elders."

Where before the disparaging comments had earned chuckles, only silence greeted him. Katsuro looked at his squadron, confused. Was it because he was new? Had he yet to earn the right to make jokes?

Each member of the squadron turned away from him, leaving him to wonder what he had done wrong. He had just realized that there was an opportunity here in the division and now... Now, the opportunity was slipping through his fingers.

The others left the tent without a word, only Mitzi hesitating at the entrance. 

"Mitzi, what did I do?" Katsuro asked desperately.

"You insulted Gosling," Mitzi answered, his eyes cold.

"What? I was talking about the kid."

"Exactly. I thought you were warming up. Finally getting over yourself. But I guess not. The only one without respect here is you." Mitzi turned away.

"Mitzi, wait! Mitzi!!" Katsuro shouted as he dashed after him. Mitzi had always been there willing to lend a hand. Kind. A friend. "Sam! Please, wait."

Mitzi paused.

Katsuro bowed. "I'm sorry for addressing you so informally. I shouldn't--"

"It's my name. Why wouldn't you use it?" Mitzi asked.

"It's terribly rude. You never gave me permission and I'm very sorry."

"That--" Mitzi sighed. "That explains so much. We just thought you were standoffish refusing to use our names."

Oh. Katsuro swallowed and straightened. He hadn't realized. 

"Let's start again. Hi, I'm Sam Mitzi. Please call me Sam." Mi-- Sam extended his hand.

Katsuro clasped it firmly. "Katsuro Ban. Nice to meet you. Call me... Katsuro."

"You do have a name!" Sam shouted and pulled him into a hug, before abruptly pulling back. "Right. No hugs. You don't like them. Come on, let's get something to eat. What was life like before?"

With surprising ease, Katsuro talked about his old job. The long hours. The relationship with his boss. The promotion he was supposed to have received. When he got to his family, they lodged painfully in his throat. 

A landscape of ash jutted with the corpses of buildings stretched out before him. His hands shook and he drew himself back to the present, pretending nothing was amiss at Sam’s inquiring look.

Swiftly he changed the subject to his old college friend. Perhaps he was still alive. He talked about food and the wonderful picnics beneath the sakura blossoms. And Sam? He asked questions, but mostly listened.

"What happened?" Sam finally dared to ask. "When the invasion began?"

"Everything burned," Katsuro answered and even after all these years, tears pricked his eyes.

"I'll tell the others you didn't mean it about Gosling. Didn't know better."

"Gosling is a skinny teen," Katsuro confirmed, because it was beyond imagining. The stories made him sound like a seasoned commander. Old and wise. Tall and muscular. Radiating power. There was no way a child went against the Count and won...

"That's why we call him a baby goose," Sam said.

"That's what Gosling means?" Katsuro asked, flabbergasted. "I thought it was his name or something."

Sam snickered. "Well, his name is pretty ridiculous as well. Lelouch Lamperouge. There's a rumor that we catch so many French agents because they think he is one."

"Someone was very bad at French," Katsuro replied, recalling his college French classes. "The ladle and red lamp? Really?"

"That explains some of the jokes. But word of advice, don't call him Gosling to his face. He gave Staff Sergeant Vegas latrine duty for weeks and they're friends."

"What would I call him then?"

Sam paused, fork halfway to his mouth. "I think he's a Warrant Officer?"

"You think?"

"Ranks are weird. Like technically only nobles can hold officers rank... Unless you're a knight, but then you're like a half noble. Anyway, since nobody can officially be a Colonel or so, we sort of cheated."

"Cheated?"

"We just added a bunch of ranks between Staff Sergeant and Warrant Officer. So like Fadiman is Staff Sergeant Brigadier but that's a mouthful, so he's just Brigadier Fadiman."

"That can't possibly fly."

"Since we miraculously lost all our officers, there's nobody there to complain. And our only noble pilots a knightmare and loudly complains about the fact that he was promoted." Sam grinned. "Welcome to the Zeroth Division, Britannia's social experiment."

Three days later, he sat in a deserted mess hall as everyone else played a strange pickup game of something which dared to be named soccer yet was nothing like it. The division was packing up, offering a rare chance for down times and recreation. In a week, they would be breaking a new camp in Area Six. A more permanent location. Supposedly in response to escalating tensions.

"Not interested in the game?" someone asked.

"More like I don't understand the rules," Katsuro said. Turning to his new companion, his mouth widened and he shot to his feet. "Warrant Officer Lamperouge, my apologies. I didn't realize--"

"Sit down." he ordered. "It's just the two of us and frankly, getting my name shouted all the time is exhausting."

"Yes... sir."

"I try to introduce myself to everyone at least once, but that takes time unfortunately. You're from Japan, right?"

When the others asked him, it was different. They weren't leading him into a trap to find an excuse to punish him. But despite how much his comrades trusted Lamperouge, he was still a Britannian. "Area Eleven, sir."

Lamperouge smirked and switched to lightly accented Japanese. "Excellent. I need someone to practice with besides my sister. Where from in Japan?"

In English, Katsuro said, "I'm an Honorary Britannian, sir. I'm not allowed to--"

"We have an exemption for intelligence collection."

"But this isn't--"

"Of course it is. I'm saying it is unless you want to file a complaint to  _ me _ about the improper use of language." At his silence, Lameroouge sighed. "I will throw in a free bowl of katsudon."

"Kagoshima," he said hesitantly, switching to Japanese. The words tasted like cherry blossoms on his tongue. It had been too long. 

Lamperouge stood and he cringed waiting for the inevitable punishment. It was all a trick. He shouldn't have succumbed to temptation.

"Come on," Lamperouge barked, still in Japanese. "I promised you katsudon, didn't I?"

It wasn't a trick? Katsuro followed him into the kitchen where Lamperouge moved around with familiarity as he prepared the ingredients.

"How?" Katsuro asked.

"I lived in Japan for two years. It was... amazing. But now it's gone forever and only our memories remain." More cheerfully, Lamperouge asked, "Do you play shogi?" 

"Not well, I'm afraid. I never was very fond of the game."

"My friend wasn't either. He would complain for hours that he had to learn it and calligraphy."

"I was similar as a child. I would much rather read the latest manga than sit down and study. But my father insisted and in the end it paid off. My daughter--" Katsuro cut himself off. It had been so long since he talked of her. He wouldn’t share her memory with the Brits who had stolen her away. "What happened to your friend?"

Lamperouge shook his head. "I don't know. We were separated during the invasion but I don't know what happened afterwards. My condolences to your family."

"Thank you," he whispered and watched in fascination as Lamperouge set down a finished plate of katsudon. It smelled divine. "You were there for the invasion?"

"We were enjoying the nice weather, when the bombs dropped. I can never forget the stench. I doubt anyone could."

"I remember the ash," he whispered. "One day, my home was there. The next, burnt to the ground."

Lamperouge's face twisted and he stood up, beginning to clean the kitchen. 

Maybe, Katsuro had been too hasty in casting judgement. There were Brits who could understand and had lived outside of Britannia. If he could sway the youth's loyalty from his home country, then the rest of the division would follow. The Numbers had no loyalty to the Emperor. Only their Gosling.

"I was an accountant. Never imagined I would be here," Katsuro murmured. "Why did you join the army?"

"That's the question." Lamperouge laughed, a broken rattling sound devoid of joy. "It felt like the natural continuation at the time and I rushed in. But I cannot change the past, only the future. So here I am."

"Of course you're in the kitchen," interrupted a Brit, scowling. "You know ditching your guard defeats the point of having one, Lelouch."

"The kitchen is hardly going to attack me, Frederick." But Lamperouge put away the pot and turned to Katsuro again, offering him a familiar Japanese bow. "It was nice meeting you Private Ban, but duty calls."

The bodyguard shook his head. "What language was it this time?"

"Just cooking. Let's avoid telling Henry all the same," Lamperouge said. "Which reminds me, I need to get some chili flakes."

While both of them walked with confidence, there was something undeniably young about them. The thought stayed his hand as he took in the kitchen. Burning it down would accomplish nothing of value.

Katsuro wandered back to the game played under the overcast sky and listened to the delighted cheering. The 712th or rather the Zeroth Division was nothing like anything he had seen back in Japan or could have imagined. Numbers being treated equally and a young commander who spoke fluent Japanese.

"Where were you?" Sam asked as he sidled up beside him. "Thought you were getting something to eat, but then you weren't there."

"Met the Gosling," he answered. "He is rather strange."

"But he's one of the good ones. Everyone has a story to tell about him. When I met him... It was before he defeated the Count again, but he was begging people for cooking recipes. I was all ready to be mad at some nosy Brit thinking he deserved our trust, and instead I got some kid following Pablo around like a little duckling."

"That's where the nickname is from?"

"Yeah. But geese are vicious hellions and you haven't seen him mad. It's like looking death in the face, except freakishly calm and eviscerates you with words alone and then when you're begging for mercy, leaves you to the misery of living," Sam whispered and shivered.

"What did you do?" Katsuro asked, aghast.

Sam grimaced. "Broke the line to chase after some Brit. Camilo... you replaced him. He died because I wasn't there. I got so caught up in striking against Brits that I forgot what was important."

...

The move to Area Six proceeded smoothly. From an empty field, more permanent structures sprung up overnight. And on weekends, they were allowed into the nearby town filled with Numbers. Their almost destitute conditions drove home that all the Numbers were in the same boat, even the Japanese. Katsuro wasn't better because he had earned a college degree, because they never had the chance to learn. They didn't even have the resources to rise up.

Spring turned into summer and Katsuro's brigade traveled through Britannia, always hunting terrorists and criminals. The best missions allowed him to fire on Brits and briefly fill the yawning hole of despair.

Often, his orders were strange, but he learned to follow them all the same. Sometimes, nothing would happen, the battle moving far from his position. But it was when the battle unexpectedly turned their way, that he would finally see the brilliant symphony play out as the enemy wandered into the trap that Katsuro had unknowingly helped lay.

They would always win, even if the situation seemed dire. Gosling had a tendency to grasp victory from the jaws of defeat in a way that made Katsuro wonder if that hadn't been the plan all along.

In June, eating one of the rare special meals, Katsuro froze as he realized what was happening. He was hunting down the very people who fought against Britannia and in doing so, ruining Japan's hope for freedom. His mouth tasted like the ash of his beloved home. 

How could he forget?

Was he really so weak that a few nice words and basic human decency would make him cave?

"Katsuro? You alright?" Sam asked.

"I just... " His voice lowered. "Britannia stole everything from me, and here I am, defending her."

"If it wasn't us, it would be someone else. And personally, I rather be behind Gosling."

His thoughts were treasonous, but then they always had been. He was just remembering now. "It's wrong. And Gosling... If he..."

"Careful," Sam hissed. "That kinda talk is trouble. And Gosling... He wouldn't get away with all this shit if the Emperor didn't trust him to be absolutely loyal."

"But--"

"Others tried. Sent out feelers. Gosling has no tolerance. They disappeared or were executed for treason."

Thinking of their young commander ending someone's life in cold blood felt wrong. Gosling was reliable. His arguments, with whatever noble tried to poke their head in, legendary. And he treated everyone fairly.

"You thought there'd be a difference between him executing some Brit for treason and a Number?" Sam asked. "Then you're a fool. He might be better than the other Brits, but he's still one and you can't forget that."

"He's just one man," Katsuro said desperately. "We could change things. Rise up. And once the Emper--"

"Stop! Just stop," Sam begged. "We're not idealists. Most of us joined for the money. We earn more here than we would elsewhere. Our lives won't be carelessly thrown away. And if we die, our family is compensated. I'm not going to ruin this. And if we do, then all the Numbers will suffer. So, please, stop. If you continue, I'll have to report you."

Watching his friend leave, Katsuro finished his meal slowly. He had wondered how Gosling kept everyone in line. And here was his answer. Any effort required more than one person and someone would always tattle, too scared of upsetting the cushy status quo. The division wasn't a place of freedom, but rather a gilded prison. A different kind of fear kept everyone loyal.

Three days later, when Gosling's guard began to clearly head toward their squadron training out on the field, Katsuro knew this was the end. Sam was studiously avoiding his eyes and Katsuro cursed his naivety. They may have suffered just as much, but they didn't understand the burning desire for freedom in his chest. Perhaps before he died, he could strike one last blow.

Sam's hand caught his and he shook his head. "Don't."

The rest of the squadron's eyes flicked between him and the approaching Britannian. They had never been close, but it still stung as they drifted closer to their weapons and faced him with stony silence. They had fought together, killed together. But it was all for nothing.

"I trusted you," Katsuro hissed. "I wasn't going to do anything." Not alone at least. He wasn't suicidal. Not yet.

"I couldn't take that risk." Sam turned away, pretending as if he didn't exist.

"Private Ban, follow me," the bodyguard ordered.

Katsuro followed him silently as his mind searched for an escape. He wasn't ready to die. Not when he hadn't avenged his family yet. How could he face them after yet another failure. First, he hadn't been home to comfort them in the end. Then, he died before making the Brits pay.

They stopped outside a small building and the bodyguard held out his hand. "No weapons inside."

Defeated, he handed over his pistol and knife. The guard just nodded and led him inside. Cool air blasted him and Katsuro rapidly blinked as he hurried after the bodyguard through the hallway of doors. Morbidly, he wondered if each held a prisoner slowly freezing to death.

They entered the last room, an office.

Lamperouge looked up from behind the mountain of paperwork. "You're an accountant, right?"

"Was," Katsuro answered, confused.

"Good. You're being reassigned. You can start on that stack over there. And Frederick, the mail is behind me."

Not believing his luck, Katsuro sat down in the corner staring at various order forms and expense reports from each brigade. In another stack, he found additional expenses and income streams. He worked in silence, falling back into old forgotten habits. But while the work was calming, his heart continued to hammer. 

Sam had reported him, basically confirmed it. They knew. 

Why did Brits always insist on their games? He had thought Gosling above them, but apparently not.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Lamperouge worked diligently, decimating his stack of paperwork before pulling out another one. At one point, his other guard entered and they left with a rolled up map. Katsuro remained rooted to his position under the watchful eye of the guard.

Finally, the bodyguard straightened. "Let's get something to eat."

Wordlessly, Katsuro followed. Surely, this was when his punishment would finally be revealed after luring him into a false sense of security. No. They went to the next room with an old beat up fridge and a standing table. 

As he quietly ate a surprisingly delicious sandwich, the other bodyguard poked his head in. "Frederick, have you seen Lelouch?'

"No, Henry."

Henry growled and stomped to the fridge. "One second. How the hell does he disappear in the one measly second I take my eyes off of him. I'm putting a tracker on him. Watch me."

"If you succeed, he'll notice it before the week is up. Best to ask Alex for help. He's the one who taught Lelouch how to lose a tail."

"How do I lose him more than you do? You don't even pay attention," Henry snapped.

Frederick laughed. "My presence is more bearable."

Glaring, Henry drained a water bottle and stomped out of the room.

"Aren't you worried?" Katsuro asked.

"No. He's with Alex and he could kill me before I can blink." Frederick grinned maliciously. "And Henry is too proud to ask for help, so now that I suggested it, he'll avoid Alex like the plague until he finds Lelouch. And if he doesn't cave until after dinner, I'll be twenty bucks richer."

"Isn't that rather..."

"Childish?" Frederick answered. "Maybe. But Henry deserves it."

Brits were insane and Katsuro settled in for the agonizing waiting game. They would always play games apparently. It was in their nature.

Three hours later, Lamperouge returned to his office trailed by a grinning soldier. "Is Henry still looking for me?"

"Yes. Came back twice asking me if I've seen you, but I think he caught on that I'm pulling his leg. Still, you owe me twenty."

"Still have tenminutes. Don't be hasty, Frederick."

Frederick narrowed his eyes. "You didn't cheat did you? Like you do at poker."

"I don't cheat," Lamperouge said then pointed at the soldier behind him. "That'd be Alex with cards in his sleeve."

"Once. You caught me once," the soldier, presumably Alex, complained, “and my honor is forever tarnished."

Katsuro glanced between the others skeptical face and Alex's mournful puppy eyes. He knew that look. The kid was definitely cheating.

A storm of curses echoed through the hallway and Henry stomped into the room, glared at Lamperouge before changing his mind, and rounding on Frederick. "You knew all this time! And I'm just swinging by and he's here!"

"Wait," Frederick turned to Lamperouge. "You knew he was going to be here! You can't just come out of hiding the last second to win the bet!"

"The only rule was that we couldn't tell him," Lamperouge answered, shamelessly grinning.

Henry threw up his hands and grabbed Frederick by the shoulder, dragging him out of the room. The door slammed shut behind them.

"I almost feel sorry for him. But considering he's won like once, you'd think he'd know better than to take a bet." Alex handed over a wallet. "Tell him to keep a better eye on it."

Lamperouge's right hand immediately patted his pocket and he groaned, "Alex."

Alex fished out two more wallets and Katsuro's hand drifted to his own empty pocket. He hadn't even noticed the kid near him.

"Why am I here?" Katsuro finally asked. The Brits had their fun, but he wanted answers. And maybe with two skinny kids, he had a chance to escape. 

"I was told to delegate more. And you're an accountant," Lamperouge answered as he wandered over to his work and picked up the paper he was working on. "And your work is fine. So I don't see the problem."

"But, but I--" Katsuro grit his teeth. This was all an elaborate scheme. "You know what I said."

Lamperouge had the audacity to shrug. "No. I barely have time to sleep. I don't spend my time eavesdropping on conversations. Although, Alex? Anything on Private Ban?"

Alex closed his eyes and drummed his finger against his leg before shrugging. "Just the normal the Empire sucks stuff. Not anything actionable."

Lamperouge laughed. "I'd hope not or else I would be in trouble."

"Fortunately, you have an office so when you swear out every noble from the Pacific to Atlantic I'm the only one who knows."

"They sent me extra paperwork. There was to be one form. But they made me fill out bloody twenty useless ones and I only found out because I complained to my mother about it," Lamperouge grumbled.

"Maybe you should call your mother more often then."

"Absolutely not," Lamperouge snapped. "Although Private Ban, I have to wonder what you did say that was so awful."

Katsuro swallowed at the inquiring faces. "I was angry... remembering my home. I wanted things to be different..." For the Emperor to die for his crimes. For the Brits to burn and feel the pain of knowing their loved ones were ash on the wind. For Japan to be free and stand among the nations once again. "I shouldn't have said anything."

Lamperouge pursed his lips. "The Burning of Kagoshima, you mean. Were you there?"

"On my way home. Stopped right outside of the city, but it was too late. So I hid like a coward as the knightmares passed." 

"The memories never leave, do they?" Lamperouge murmured and he looked incredibly sad for a moment. As if all those deaths weighed on his shoulders personally. "You have nothing to worry about, Private Ban. I only need an accountant and you're a more than capable one. Although if you will be here, then practicing our Japanese would not be amiss."

Tension drained out of him and they conversed more amicably, switching to Japanese. Alex listened with a pained expression until finally begging to know what certain words meant. They were so eager. So innocent despite the situation. And they reminded him so much of his own family. 

But he couldn't forget what Sam had said. Lamperouge would never have risen to a position of power if the Emperor wasn't convinced of his loyalty. There were the rumored disappearances and executions as well. Despite his innocent face, a monster lurked under his skin, just like every Brit. And Katsuro knew he would kill them if it meant saving Japan. 

A few weeks later, he ran into Sam who stared at him in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Gosling needed an accountant, apparently. No thanks to you," Katsuro said. "You sold me out."

Sam crossed his arms. "I'm not going to apologize for keeping the division safe. You should've kept your mouth shut."

"Words don't mean anything."

"But the look in your eyes when you said them?" Sam stepped away shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I'll protect the division, even from you."

The words ended any hope of reconciliation and Katsuro mourned the loss of his friendship, but he had no words to defend himself. He despised Britannia. Wanted to see it burn and he only became an Honorary Britannian out of necessity, even if the plan had derailed far beyond what he could imagine. 

If only he could turn Lamperouge to his side and the rest of the division would follow. It would be so satisfying to watch Britannia shatter beneath the hammer she crafted to defend herself.

But he had no idea what tied Lamperouge to Britannia. His name was French, yet he hunted spies. He spoke fluent Japanese, understood French and Latin, and was learning Spanish, but always acted as if Britannia was superior. And from his accounting work, Katsuro knew Lamperouge earned a pittance. Enough to sponsor a round trip from Area Six to Japan with a little pocket change left over.

Slowly, he made new acquaintances but he never lowered his guard again as he had with Sam. The next time he spoke rashly, he might not be as lucky. But despite all the distance he purposefully maintained, he kept growing fonder of Lamperouge. Slipping into Japanese felt like coming home, and, for those brief moments, he could pretend he was away on a business trip and when he returned, his family would be waiting for him.

There was something magnetic about Lamperouge. He understood people, always giving them what they desired. It was a skill, perhaps a purposeful manipulation and it made him dangerous. With a well few placed words, he would cast doubt into someone's heart and then slowly reel them in until their loyalty was tightly bound. 

And Katsuro? He knew what was happening. Felt that tug every day, begging him to let go of his hate and lay down his life for a Brit. And every day he fought back, but slowly he was losing. He was so tired and with Lamperouge in charge, he could trust him to make the hard decisions and finally let him rest; the plan be damned.

The plan... A worthless one halfway around the world. Whatever he did here would not help Japan.

"You know you can call me, Lelouch," Lamperouge interrupted one day as Katsuro tried to balance the budget so they could acquire another knightmare. "I think we've known each other long enough."

"Katsuro," he offered and bit his lip. Lelouch understood what he was offering. Him offering his name meant something more than the various other soldiers who regarded his mannerisms and formality with amusement. It was a display of trust, but traitorous thoughts rumbled in his head.

"Thank you, Katsuro. Did you manage to find the funds or do I have to go gambling again?"

"That's how you get the funds?" He had thought Lelouch was some sort of money demon for his ability to procure necessary funds out of nowhere when the time came. Apparently not. Just a luck demon.

Lelouch simply laughed. 

The next day, the joyful atmosphere was gone as Katsuro finally witnessed one of the rumored executions. Three men had snuck out to the village and had been caught. But that wasn't why they were kneeling on the ground before Lelouch.

Henry led a young trembling girl inside the room. She looked at the kneeling men and Lelouch between terrified sobs. Lelouch spoke softly in Spanish as he knelt before her, gently asking questions.

Slowly, her sobs quieted, and she glanced up at Pablo standing in the far corner who nodded and replied in Spanish, his voice warm and reassuring. The three of them conversed quietly until the girl finally pointed at one of the men. Lelouch straightened, his face hard.

"As she claims the two of you did not participate, your life has been spared. But since you didn't interfere either when witnessing a comrade committed a vile act, you are dishonorably discharged. As for Private Bolivar,"--he turned to the man the girl had pointed to--"you will be executed at the crack of dawn. Until then, you will be under guard and may write one last letter to inform your family. Guards, take him away."

Katsuro repressed a shiver as he looked at Lelouch, who for a moment resembled an old dreaded officer that had ordered them to violently break a workers’ strike. It would be ridiculously easy to charge forward and pin him down to the ground so the prisoners would escape. It would be so easy to let his hand slip and end the greatest threat to Japan’s freedom.

The prisoners left, and the murderous fantasy faded.

...

Katsuro woke to the gunshots. He could imagine the man dropping to the ground, limp and lifeless. If anyone knew his heart, he would be there staining the ground with blood. 

The office was empty and Alex waited in the door. "You shouldn't be alone here. No one is allowed to."

"I just... It's my job. I can wait." Katsuro had never arrived before Lelouch who he thought slept in his office.

"Take the day off. Lelouch won't be working here today. Never does on days like these."

He nodded and left, wandering aimlessly. When was the last time he was given time off? On the field, his old squadron trained with two new faces he didn't recognize. In the midst, he spotted Sam, who was, as always, pushing himself. He felt lost. 

Brits were the enemy...

But an Honorary Britannian was a Brit.

Katsuro had sworn himself to the Emperor and become a Brit.

And not just Brits were capable of vile acts.

He found Lelouch tending to injured patients under the stern gaze of Lieutenant Colonel Tamay. The dark thought that perhaps Lelouch enjoyed the executions vanished. Even in his free time, he was helping while Katsuro achieved nothing. Would achieve nothing because hatred shackled his feet.

Was he just a monster waiting to emerge? Given the opportunity what would he do to make the Brits pay?

His wife would be ashamed of the dark thoughts that had taken root in his mind. His daughter would despair because there was nothing left of the father she loved. He was a husk of a man, clinging onto the last shred of life.

He knew what he had to do, to admit, before it was too late.

At dinner, he finished his meal, then pulled Sam aside. "I just want to say thank you for trying and apologize for being such a poor friend."

He walked away, Sam desperately calling his name behind him. Unable to stop him, Sam hurried away, undoubtedly to inform someone of his suspicious behavior.

In his dorm, Katsuro finished writing a letter to his friends back in Japan. It was vague, but hopefully he would be allowed to send it. They must have written him off by now, but he would give them the benefit of closure.

"Katsuro," Alex interrupted as he sealed the letter and confirmed Katusor's suspicion that Alex worked in intelligence. "What are you doing?"

He could turn around and fight. If he believed Frederick, then he would be dead before he could blink. Leave them to wonder why he had snapped. Or he could talk and draw out the inevitable. 

Which child would he condemn as his executioner?

"I'm a traitor," he declared because he was selfish and wanted the chance to apologize.

Alex watched him warily.

"Why aren't you doing anything? I just said I'm a traitor to Britannia. I want it to burn. Do something!"

Alex turned away, the lock clicking into place behind him. Breaking down, he pulled out the last and only photo of his family and cried. He missed thier warm and tender embrace. His wife’s sarcastic quips. His daughter discordant violin playing.

All that was left of them was a picture and even there, the colors were fading. Soon, there would be nothing to remember them by. He was so tired. 

No matter what he did, he would never see their loving smiles again. He couldn't move on because every step he took poisoned the world around him. The only path forward was revenge, and he didn't have the strength of will.

"Katsuro," Lelouch said gently from across the room. Alex stood between them. "Was there something you wanted to say?"

"Why are you just standing there? Kill me. Arrest me. Don't you know that my dreams are filled with your blood spattered on the walls?" He choked back a sob. "Just end it before I do something unforgivable."

"That's your family?" Lelouch asked, picking up the photo from the ground. "Your daughter has a beautiful smile."

"The prettiest. She loved to play the violin. Practiced every day and cried when she got the notes wrong," Katsuro began and more memories spilled from his lips. Someone had to know how precious they were and hold onto the memory when he was gone. Finally, with his mouth parched, he looked up at the two watching him sadly. "I don't blame you. I know what's coming."

Britannia had no tolerance for traitors. 

"I don't execute people for words," Lelouch said. "Here's what will happen. Tomorrow you will see Lance Corporal Tamay for debilitating headaches. He will declare you unfit for duty and I will sign an honorable discharge. Then, you may return home and grieve."

"But I said--"

"All I noticed was you breaking down from a migraine," Lelouch said. Halfway to the door, he paused. "But if we somehow end up on opposing sides of a battlefield, I cannot show mercy. And your NDA is still valid. If you break it, people will die."

...

A week later, he stood in Tokyo with a handful of cash and his prized possession. He had been sentenced to live yet didn't know how. No longer were his loyalties in conflict. He could go to a small cafe, ask for a job, and create a new life for himself. Or he could turn to the path of vengeance and accept the inevitable death when the Zeroth Division was called.

"Katsuro? Is that you? It's been ages my old friend," Haru from college exclaimed. "I can't believe you're alive. What happened to you?"

He smiled honestly. "Haru. It's wonderful to see you. I got kicked out of the army."

"You? In the army? Never would have imagined that. Come on, let's get a drink and catch up." Haru led the way through narrow alleyways, talking animatedly. "When I heard about Kagoshima, I feared the worse."

Katsuro pursed his lips and changed the subject. “How have you been?”

“Same old.” Haru laughed. “Well, not really. I help folks find a job, or at least the next meal. I’d be happy to help you although Honorary Britannians have it easier as long as you’re willing to put up with a lot of shit… Probably better than the army though. Hear they beat you within an inch of your life there.”

“Sometimes I’m surprised that I’m alive. But I got lucky and was sent abroad. The commander was… decent.” He could say more and try to explain the wonder of a Number division run without nobles. But how could he make someone understand what type of person Lelouch was? What he meant as their commander. It was unbelievable.

Lelouch, a Brit, had shown mercy. Allowed him to escape to a normal life so he could remake himself again. Even halfway across the world, part of his loyalty belonged to the Gosling. So he remained quiet and abided by the terms of his NDA. No one would hear the truth of the Zeroth Division from his lips.

Although, as he caught up on recent events, he wondered if Zero and Lelouch were one and the same. Because there had been no one else in those offices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note:
> 
> And I’m back. Really sorry for the unexpected delay. Hopefully by the time you reached the end, the next fic will have finished uploading and be available to read.
> 
> As this is the epilogue, I indulged myself by writing a brand new OC. The next fic will get back to your regularly scheduled Lelouch and Nunnally. :)
> 
> Chat with me on the discord: https://discord.gg/uSBegVj 
> 
> Thank you x1tears1X and Spaded Ace18 on FFN for your help with betaing


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